Keystones: Altered Destinies

by Alexander McKinney

  Deklan knew it wasn’t a question.

  “I can feel it,” added Mutuari. “Now say goodbye.”

  Vitality, an abundant energy he hadn’t been aware of previously, drained from Deklan. Its loss left him tired and aching. Pain flared anew. The sensation from his ruined hand became all-encompassing, leaving him gasping for breath as his throat constricted.

  Mutuari clambered to his feet. “What are you?” he asked, pleasure evident on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good. You I need to leave alive, but I don’t need to leave you unhurt.” His foot crushed down on Deklan’s left hand.

  Still lying on the ground, and despite the excruciating pain of his finger stumps, Deklan smiled wanly and said, “You’re not leaving me at all.”

  “What?” replied a confused Mutuari.

  Deklan watched Stalker’s shadow creep along the tree above them. “We’re both going to die,” he answered. It was time for one last gamble. If he died first, Mutuari would lose his power. Deklan grabbed Mutuari’s ankle.

  As Stalker descended, darkness plunged over them. It was almost familiar, an empty world without objects or landmarks. This time, however, Deklan was not alone. He could still feel Mutuari.

  While Deklan experienced the same pervasive cold as before, the cold stemming from his grip on Mutuari was worse. It felt like a malign entity reaching through his palm, up his arm, and searching for his heart and lungs to freeze them.

  Suddenly a torrent of fire, like molten lead, surged through Deklan’s veins and arteries. It was his power now taken back from Mutuari. How or why he didn’t know and didn’t care. He had won by losing.

  He didn’t know what Stalker did to his victims, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped one monster today. Deklan closed his eyes and let go.

  Warm rays from the sun caressed his skin. Deklan lifted his head from the grass. Memory had returned, and he was alive.

  He pumped a celebratory one-two punch at the sky, but his feeling of triumph dimmed with the jarring pain of the ragged stumps on his left hand. He hoped that with his recovered power of healing his two fingers would grow back on their own.

  Deklan brought his left arm down so that his fist lay near the center of his chest, and he clasped his left wrist with his right hand. Then he sat up, hands still cradled against his torso. Next to him lay Mutuari, his flesh white and frozen. His lips formed a silent rictus of agony. Deklan was unsympathetic.

  It was time to get to the Elevator.

  Inspection

  Jonny’s mind boggled as he took in the scope of the manufacturing facility. Lacey sat next to him, stunned into silence. Before beginning their inspection, they had discovered that large parts of Terra Ring Three in which they were interested could be opened to space travel.

  Gaining entrance had been easy, almost as though the secrecy hadn’t been intended to last. They had flown a ship from Ring Two, matched velocity, and entered through an unguarded docking bay. Jonny had expected a bit more of a challenge.

  There were tens of thousands of ships in various stages of completion. Surrounding these craft were workers in EVA suits swarming ant-like over their projects. It was impossible to see the far end of the construction yard, but this hangar was only one of many.

  “Who had the clout to arrange this?” Jonny wondered aloud. “And how did we not know about it?”

  Lacey’s voice was lower than usual, a clear sign of deep thought on her part. “Good questions. We need to speak to the foremen and find out how many of these ships are complete and who owns them. If they can’t be hired, I imagine they can be commandeered, though that is the option of last resort.”

  Jonny realized that she was thinking out loud. He needed her to focus on him, and his involvement in these inspections, because his commission depended on Lacey’s assistance. “Are we going to check some of the other facilities?” he asked.

  Lacey ignored Jonny as she used the screen in front of them to send notes back to the office with instructions and updated information on what they’d found. “Yes,” she then replied. “Definitely. I don’t believe that this is an isolated case, but we need to have more to go on.”

  Seventeen work sites later, each of which Jonny and Lacey had determined to be focused on the production of gravity-capable craft, Lacey decided to halt their investigations. “We’ve seen enough.”

  “What?” replied Jonny. “We’ve only begun to scratch the surface and. . . .”

  Lacey cut him off abruptly with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That doesn’t matter. These work sites are all owned by companies with which we can liaise to determine the availability of these ships. We have other team members checking additional sites, and all of them have found the same sort of construction yards. None of us have found evidence of anything illegal, and the sooner we talk to the right people, the sooner we can draw up some contracts.”

  “We’ve only visited sites that were accessible via docking bays. What about sites that we need to visit on foot?” Jonny protested, angling for a bigger role in the project.

  Lacey made another slashing motion with her hand. “They’re not pertinent to the contracts.”

  “Aren’t you curious?” He emphasized “curious” in a bid to keep Lacey going. Leaving now would be a wasted opportunity for greater profit margins.

  Lacey shook her head and entered new instructions into the autopilot. “Not enough to distract myself from the biggest profit-taking opportunity that our firm has ever had, and frankly, Jonny, I outrank you. We’re heading back to the office now. We’ve been to seventeen different facilities owned by seventeen different companies, each of which was hired by a different shell corporation, yet each of them is manufacturing the same model of gravity-capable ship. I want you to track down how many additional sites are owned by these same corporations.”

  Success! Jonny’s big payoff was assured.

  Countdown to Departure

  Elizabeth skittered through the terminal building via ducts hidden in the ceiling. There was no room or space that she couldn’t access in her search for small and dangerous animals that posed a significant threat to people.

  As little as an hour ago she had been spread over much of the surrounding land in Boa Vista, protecting several hundred square blocks of land and ensuring that the only threats left were human predators.

  Not that Elizabeth believed that human predators should be tolerated, but it was easy to find and kill renegade animals and difficult to assess the actions of people passing through her territory to determine whether they were good or bad.

  Given additional time, she could have been more discriminating, but with circumstances being what they were Elizabeth had decided to focus exclusively on Keystone mammals that might attack people.

  Just now, though, she wanted to speak with Cheshire. Drawing enough spiders together to form a living mound, Elizabeth merged their bodies, letting exoskeletons flow into each other to form her skin, eyes, organs, and features. This time she was a cute blonde girl.

  The transformation was quick and painless. Elizabeth was amazed anew as she observed her metamorphosis from an undulating mound of arachnids.

  A second mode of awareness or persona that she called Skitterling, more feral but somehow tamed, stayed behind and watched her brood as she assumed human form. This second awareness tickled at the back of her mind, continuing her hunt of venomous animals in a more chaotic fashion.

  Elizabeth didn’t have long to wait before Cheshire arrived. Stepping out of an empty space, he looked her up and down, then did it again. A schoolboy grin lit his face. “We’re almost done here,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, pleased with the effect she had on him. It helped her put her disguise behind her. “Yes,” she replied. “I still don’t like your plan, though. It seems cruel.”

  “It is, but he needs to know, and there are some things a person must experience firsthand.” His grin and tone were at odds with his words as he tried to wrap his arms
around her.

  Elizabeth held him off and forced his gaze up to hers. “You’re entirely confident of the outcome?” she inquired.

  Cheshire sighed and licked his lower lip before answering. “Long-term? No, I’m not sure of anything. That’s what makes this so hard. Short-term? Yes, I can promise you that.”

  She playfully tapped him on the nose. “I’ve spent my life keeping my impulses under control, not letting out the predator within. Everything that you’ve taught me has been about refinement. This plan of yours, I’m compelled to say, has no elegance.”

  Going Up

  The Elevator doors were disarmingly modest. For something that could take you to the Terra Rings, Michael had expected a grander entrance. Instead there were just two sliding doors, much like what could be found in almost any apartment building, even though they were six times as wide. Still, they lacked insignias or anything that made them look other than ordinary. Michael also knew that there were identical doors on the two floors above them that would open into the same Elevator.

  That fact didn’t stop him from watching in amazement as the Elevator arrived for boarding. He had flown from New York to Boa Vista for this moment. The doors opened without a sound, and people pushed forward as though their lives depended on it. Elbows were thrown as the crowd surged forward. Michael did his best to create room for himself, Arc, and the Tobins as they joined the rushing mob.

  Tricia slowed their progress as she craned her head in all directions looking for Deklan. Michael knew she was convinced that he would arrive at any second and be reunited with them. His absence had dealt her a crushing blow. Each time that Michael saw her look for her son, she became less energetic and less hopeful. He refrained from pointing out to her that if Deklan were anywhere in the room, even if they had somehow failed to notice him, he would have noticed them.

  Despite being large enough to carry a thousand people in comfortable seating, their particular Elevator was filled like a multi-story subway car during rush hour. Every seat was filled and all standing spaces occupied.

  Michael felt immensely self-conscious. Passengers were staring wall-eyed at his wings, and he kept bumping into them. He couldn’t help but jostle people with his wings, regardless of how he wrapped them around his body. Their dirty looks made him feel small. That coupled with the sheer throng of people did nothing to alleviate his claustrophobia. Michael closed his eyes and thought of being in the sky with the wind in his face.

  Someone bumped into him again and ruined his fantasy. When his eyes snapped open again, the Elevator’s walls caved in on him. His knees hit the floor with his arms and wings raised above him like a shield. When he came back to his senses, everyone was staring at him. That only made things worse. His breathing came faster and faster. There was nowhere to escape.

  A ring of open space cleared around Michael. The cabin was packed, but people pushed away from him. He felt humiliated by his weakness, and for the first time since The Sweep he wished that he hadn’t been given wings. He kept his face down so that the crowd wouldn’t see his reaction.

  He only looked up when Tricia gasped, “Michael, what’s happening to you?”

  Closing his eyes in the futile hope that the sensation would go away, he answered, “I just don’t like small spaces. I’ll be fine.”

  She ran over to him and brushed his back, her voice still shocked. “Not that. Your wings!”

  Michael’s eyes snapped open, and he looked above him where he’d positioned his wings when he’d thought for a second that the ceiling was collapsing. They were gone. Their comforting weight was gone. He reached up to his shoulders, anxious hands running behind his neck, as though the simple act of touch would reveal what he had just seen to be a lie. His shoulders were normal. Not a trace of his wings remained other than the advanced musculature that he’d developed in the brief time he’d been able to fly. Tear burned into his eyes. His wings were all that had ever made him special, and they were gone.

  Michael desperately wanted the wings back. He craved them as he had craved nothing else in his life. Warmth rippled through him again, and a sensation of taut stretching pulled at his shoulders, it reminded him of when he’d been shoved from the building. His wings burst forth, pushing their way to the ceiling, a white wall of safety once more.

  The unadulterated joy that came over Michael was matched only by the crushing return of his claustrophobia. He collapsed to his knees again and held his arms over his head. His chest was too tight to allow even a single breath. He’d done it before; he could do it again. Michael thought hard about his wings shrinking into his shoulders. The warm sensation came again. This time he recognized it for what it was and welcomed it. He felt his wings pull back into his shoulders and vanish. As the last feathers disappeared into his back, he felt his fear of small spaces disappear like dust in the wind.

  Tricia touched his back. Her voice was soft and amazed: “They’re a tattoo now.”

  “What?” replied Michael.

  Arc and Brice nodded in agreement with Tricia.

  She touched his back again. “Your wings are not gone entirely. They’re on you like a tattoo. You didn’t know that you could do that?”

  This was even better than just having wings. “I didn’t,” Michael said, “but I like it.”

  Tickets

  Deklan had run to the security checkpoint of the terminal. “I lost my Uplink,” he said to the guard, “but I’m Deklan Tobin. If you would just scan my biometrics, you’ll see that I have a ticket booked.” After a tiring day it took all of Deklan’s strength to remain composed.

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but I have no way of verifying that you have a ticket.” The security guard spoke in a thick monotone that suggested an absence of independent thought.

  “My Uplink was destroyed,” said Deklan, frustrated with the triumph of idiocy over reason.

  “Yes, sir, but we can’t let anyone through who doesn’t have a ticket.” The man sounded as though he were reciting some internal script that didn’t allow for deviations from what he expected.

  Deklan closed his eyes, counted to ten, and tried to get through to the blockhead. “I do have a ticket,” he asserted.

  “No, sir, you don’t.”

  “If you would let me use your Uplink, I can prove it.”

  The guard responded with another rote answer. “That’s against company policy, sir, and even if that were true, we are at capacity. You will need to wait for the next Elevator.”

  Deklan blew out a breath, the throbbing pain from his mangled finger stumps left him with little patience. “When is that?”

  “Services have been temporarily disrupted, but we expect them to resume soon.”

  Deklan wondered whether there was any way to break through the wall of stupidity facing him. “Why?”

  The guard blinked for a minute. He didn’t have an answer for that one. “What?” he said.

  Deklan laid the question out for him in a more complete form. “Why do you expect them to resume soon?”

  The guard stared blankly ahead while ponderous wheels turned in his head. “Service will resume soon, sir.”

  Deklan stared at the man, comprehending that the nitwit had no idea of what was happening. “Can I speak to your supervisor, please?”

  He shook his head and kept shaking it all through the answer, looking like a confused duck. “My supervisor is unavailable.”

  “Where is he?” Deklan had a sinking feel that he knew the answer to that question.

  “He left to manage things on the Terra Rings once the situation here became more complex.”

  “And that doesn’t worry you?”

  The guard looked at him with big mournful eyes that suggested his unease with Deklan’s asking hard questions. “I don’t understand your question.”

  Suddenly the man collapsed in a convulsion. Taser cables extended from him to a point behind Deklan.

  A melodious and cheerful voice with an English accent came from the direction of the c
ables. “Tasers have long been one of my favorite toys.”

  Deklan turned to the man who had just tasered his idiotic tormentor. The stranger had a slight build and dark brown hair. He looked to be in his mid-forties, except for his eyes. In his hand was a taser that he tossed to the floor.

  “There’s almost no one else here,” he said, “so I’m pretty sure that if you hurry we can get you onto the Elevator before it leaves.”

  Deklan felt bad for the nitwit on the floor, but not so much that he wasn’t going to accept the offer of help. “Thank you,” he replied.

  The man’s grin promised more mischief than Deklan had ever seen in a smile. “My pleasure. I intend to get on it too, but we should probably run.”

  “Who are you?” Deklan asked. He would have been curious even without the tasering.

  The man flashed Deklan another grin that went all the way up to his eyes. “You can call me Cheshire.”

  Deklan nodded, unsure of how to read the man or even how to respond. “Hi. I’m Deklan.”

  The man inclined his head. “Nice to meet you, Deklan. Now it’s time to run.”

  When Deklan and Cheshire reached the waiting area, it was empty. They’d missed the Elevator.

  “Damn it!” exploded Deklan in frustration. “What now? I sent my parents up on that Elevator, and I don’t know where they are.”

  Cheshire was unfazed. “Now we override the door.”

  “We what?”

  Cheshire walked over to a panel next to the closed Elevator-loading doors. “We override the controls, and by ‘we’ I mean that I do.”

  After Cheshire manipulated the panel, the doors opened onto empty space and the Elevator cable.

  “How is that helpful?” asked Deklan.

  “Well, normally it wouldn’t be. There is a three-story drop.” Cheshire leaned out and looked down. “However, the cable can be climbed with this.” He pulled a small device from his pocket.