The villagers backed away from the eviscerated giant, and a few vomited. Jenny struggled to banish the horrible sight from her mind. Tristan continued the evacuation, and the villagers gave the edges of the portal a wide berth. Lastly, an old man with a beard down to his knees crossed over to his new home.
“Everybody is through,” Tristan yelled over the din of the battle.
Jenny turned back to the wall. A new fighter had joined Astrea’s side. He was a very tall man, wearing black armor that looked too futuristic for this period. He wielded a tall black bow which he was using to fire arrows at the giants.
Astrea turned toward the remaining defenders. “Retreat, retreat, retreat!”
Hearing the order, the soldiers turned from their fights and ran for the portal. Walther rushed to the stairs and guarded the defenders as they made their escape. Astrea swung the Riftkey at an arrow-riddled giant. Flesh parted and filled the air with gray dust. The Risi fell, but the red-Mohawked Risi still held the gatehouse. The outer portcullis stood open, and armored giants filed into the gatehouse. The tall, mysterious man approached Astrea and Walther as the inner portcullis lifted.
“Rygelus, I fear you are too late. We have lost the fort, but you are welcome to join us.”
“I cannot.” Rygelus shouldered his massive bow and pushed up the faceplate of his helmet. Dark-brown hair framed a sharp face with thick eyebrows perched above angled brown eyes. A significant bump stood out from his forehead.
“I understand.” Astrea clapped him on the shoulder. “I will miss you, friend.”
Rygelus gave her a short nod. The rain fell in a torrent and funneled through a slotted drain cover. As the soldiers retreated through the portal, Walther joined Astrea at the gatehouse. Sweat and blood plastered his black hair to his head.
As the inner portcullis lifted higher, a Risi clawed its way through the gap. Astrea swung the Riftkey into its exposed head, killing it and blocking the way for the others. She faced Rygelus and pulled the tuning-fork object free from around her neck. “Here.” She lifted the chain over her head and placed it in Rygelus’s hand. “Someone else may need this one day.”
Pain showed on Rygelus’s face. “I had high hopes for you.” He closed his hand around hers and looked into her eyes. “I wish you luck on your journey, and I hope you return one day.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Be safe.” Walther gripped Rygelus’s shoulder.
“I will take the hidden passage.”
As Astrea and Walther made their way to the portal, Rygelus disappeared through the grand double doors of the church.
“This is my path. These are my people,” Astrea chanted as she followed her father through the portal. “They are my responsibility now.” Astrea stepped through the opening to the golden world beyond. She stopped short. The Riftkey would not pass through the portal. She pulled with all her might. She gave Jenny a look of desperation and confusion. The gateway shrunk. Astrea had to make a decision. Either let go or lose her hand. She let go, but the Riftkey remained stuck to the surface, like a pin to a magnet. When the portal finally closed, the Riftkey fell and hit the stone drain cover, shattering it. For a moment, it balanced on the edge of the hole, then it tumbled into the darkness. A splash echoed up from below.
The rain passed through Jenny’s hands as she stared into the drain. The inner portcullis opened, and a horde of Risi ran for the courtyard. They searched the buildings and alleyways and inspected their dead comrades. Sounds grew muffled, and Jenny’s vision faded to blackness.
Images played across her mind like a deranged slideshow. A triangle inside a circle, the same as the talisman her mom had given her. The triangle became a pyramid, carved out of the inside of a massive cave. Small, furry, glowing humanoids, like Heather, worshiped in front of an immense serpent-like statue. It cradled a silver human in its coils.
10
A Disguise in a Friend
Jack sat in the cockpit of the Strider and watched the remains of the Redeemer scatter into space. Victus sat in the third gun pod. The dark Terminal loomed behind them. There may not be a station, Jack thought, but maybe there are some transmissions. “Scan all frequencies,” Jack said to the computer.
The console beeped a moment later. Jack looked down and saw that there was a message waiting for playback. The source of the communication was a nearby satellite. Jack pressed play, and a cheerful male voice spoke over the ship’s speakers.
“Welcome to the Sol System. We have registered and logged your spacecraft. Please proceed to one of the four spaceports at Sol-3, or, as we call it, Earth.”
Jack’s temper rose with each word of the automated message.
“There are 365.25 days in an Earth year,” the message continued. “Days are divided into twenty-four hours. Years are divided into twelve months. It is currently the year 2024, the sixth month of the year, and the eighteenth day of the month. The primary species is human. Seventy-one percent of the planet is water, and the land is mountainous. We have included the coordinates in this broadcast. Proceed to the nearest Department of Transportation to begin your application for citizenship. Your well-being is our goal. Have a wonderful day.”
“What the hell is Sol?” Jack asked.
“Sol is the star of this system,” the computer answered.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Jack disconnected from the broadcast. “Hocco.” Jack scratched his scalp with both hands.
There was no answer.
“Hocco, where the hell are you?”
A moment later, Hocco floated into the cockpit. He calmly took a seat in the copilot’s chair.
Jack’s hands shook with adrenaline. He stared at Hocco and said, “You owe me some answers.”
“Jack,” Hocco answered, “do you know how many systems are part of the Terminal network?”
“There are nine,” Jack said. “Everyone in the galaxy knows that.” He clenched his fist. “What are you playing at?”
“Wrong.” Hocco spun the chair around to face Jack. “There are twelve.”
“No.” Jack thought back to his lessons. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Somebody would know,” Jack said. “I would have heard something.”
“If there’s no reason to suspect another system, then why would anyone seek them out? Besides, only a Terminal master could confirm such an allegation, and why would they lie?”
“What was your reason?” Jack asked.
“Have you heard of a locked Terminal?”
“Locked, like a door?”
“Sort of. You can travel to a locked Terminal, but you cannot return through it.”
“And Terminal masters allow people to travel there?”
“They do.”
“Why?”
“Use your imagination.”
Jack thought. There were times in his life when he’d wanted to escape. Even now, he spent most of his time alone, locked in his shop, married to his work. Hocco watched him think it over and remained quiet. Why would Hocco tell me this? Jack thought. Unless… “We’re in one of these locked systems, aren’t we?”
After a short silence, Hocco answered. “Yes.”
“You trapped us here. You tricked me. I would punch him right now if he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Why?”
“To find the Selkans.”
“And the Defenders’ secret weapon,” Jack whispered. “Teleportation.” Hocco wouldn’t trap himself here unless he knew of a way out. But the key to getting home was finding Selkans. Jack entered the coordinates sent by satellite and fired up the primary drive. The seat pressed against Jack as the Strider sped away from the locked Terminal toward the planet called Earth.
Jack dreamed that he was being hunted by a monster aboard the Strider. Panting heavily, he removed a panel in the engineering section and crawled inside. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. The panel was torn open, and a wave of heat blasted into his face.
Jack jerked awake t
o a buzzing sound in the next room. Consciousness returned like a planet completing a rotation. His eyes wouldn’t open. Like him, they refused to acknowledge reality. The sound, Jack realized, was the buzz of electric clippers. That’s right, I’m searching for Selkans with Hocco. Jack hadn’t even bothered to remove his pants and shirt before jumping into his bunk. He checked his watch. And I’ve only been asleep for three hours.
The Strider’s floors were arranged like a four-story building, with the thrusters at the bottom. It accelerated at ten meters per second, producing the standard, galactic artificial gravity. So he shuffled over to the mirror rather than float. The skin around his reddened eyes sagged, and his shoulders slumped. Staying up all night to install the buffer had taken its toll. And why do my knuckles hurt? He ran his aching hand under running water and combed his hair with his wet fingers.
Jack plopped down on the edge of the bed and grabbed his boots. They were timeworn and rugged, and more than leather and gold. They were a symbol of a Harbinger pilot. Years of drills in the corps, hundreds of hours of flight school, and merciless combat missions had earned him these boots.
Jack left his small cabin and entered the rich fragrance of fresh-brewed coffee filling the Strider’s galley. He inhaled deeply and sighed. A cup of coffee wouldn’t make this catastrophe go away, but it would drastically improve his mood. Jack was a good coffee brewer, but he was nothing compared to Hocco. Jack couldn’t wait to learn from the master.
Jack smiled when he saw Hocco. His shipmate sat at the table reading from a tablet and drinking from one of Jack’s favorite mugs. The mug was from a Lan station vendor who had misspelled it as an alien curse word that sounded the same. It always made Jack smile when he saw it. This time, Jack smiled because of a large purple bruise decorating Hocco’s right cheek. That’s right—Jack grinned—I did get to punch him right before I went to sleep. Jack also noticed that Hocco had trimmed his long black hair into a short military crop. The man loved his hair, Jack thought. Why would he cut it now?
Hocco pinched the bridge of his nose as he studied the tablet. “I found some coffee in the food stores. There’s more in the pot.”
Jack poured himself a cup. “I loved your presentation on pour-over coffee in variable gravities the other day.”
“Hmm?” Hocco set the tablet down and looked up at Jack in confusion.
“I’m not going to apologize for hitting you.” Jack rubbed his big knuckles. “And I want to know your plans for getting us out of here.”
“And I plan on telling you.”
“What’s with the new look?” Jack asked.
“Oh, this.” Hocco ran his hand over his shorn head. “I could not live another day with that hair.”
Jack looked down at the tablet. The screen displayed a map of what he assumed was Earth. “What are you doing?”
“Searching for my contact on Earth.” Hocco scrolled through data on the tablet.
“You know someone down there?”
Hocco nodded.
Jack took a sip and winced at the heat. Why did Hocco use such high heat? He should know that the water-soluble compounds would never be absorbed. He may have burned off the volatile oils. That’s an amateur move. Jack scrunched his face at the taste. Are the beans that bad? No, they’re the same ones I used in my pour-over back at the station. Jack forced the unpleasant black liquid down his throat.
“I hope Earth has some good coffee,” Jack said to Hocco, “because this tastes like piss.”
“Be thankful I made it at all,” Hocco said.
Jack cocked his head. What is he playing at? He’s been acting unusual since he showed up at my workshop. I was willing to ignore the odd mannerisms and the haircut, but not this coffee. “Are you really Hocco?”
Hocco shrugged and looked at his tablet.
Jack jumped across the table and knocked the other man off his seat. They fell to the hard deck in a tangle. Hocco banged his head against the wall and started laughing. Jack lifted him up by his collar and smashed his fist into his chin. Hocco dropped to the floor and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
“That’s one hell of a punch.” Hocco snickered as he sat up. “You should know, this isn’t my face.”
“Who are you?” Jack grabbed him by the collar and shook him. “Tell me before I beat it out of you.”
Hocco worked his jaw. “Unless you want to stay in this system forever, you will not strike me again.”
“Who the hell are you?” Jack let him fall back to the floor. “Tell me.”
Hocco stood up, straightened his shirt, and thrust his chest out. “I am Admiral Vae Victus of the Defenders.”
Jack stepped back in shock. “You’re an Æon.” He’d heard stories of the supernatural humans who could control people’s minds. Covert assassins who could make wives kill their husbands or bodyguards kill their clients. He’d always believed they were myths. Jack clenched his fist. He wanted to beat this man to a pulp, but he’d have to control his emotions if he was going to get home. He slammed the table instead, causing the coffee mugs to bounce. “What happened to Hocco?”
Victus shrugged. “He’s dead.”
Jack tried to feel something for the loss of his colleague, but he couldn’t. He was in too much shock. Jack picked up Victus’s tablet and examined the map of Earth. “How do we get out of this system?”
“The same way we got in.” Victus grabbed his chin and moved his jaw around.
“But you said that the Terminal is locked.”
“When a door is locked, you find a key.”
“This isn’t a normal door we’re talking about.”
“You are correct. We’re not looking for a normal key. If you want to get back to your home, then we need to find the Riftkey before the Selkans do.
11
Treehouse
Heavy rain chilled Jenny to the bone where she lay on the wet cobblestones. She opened her eyes and saw Sally—no, Astrea—standing above her. It seemed like the battle had raged only minutes ago. Jenny could still smell blood and sweat, but she saw only moss-covered ruins around her.
Jenny rolled onto her knees and stood up. “This is where you created the portal.”
Astrea nodded and pointed at the timeworn storm drain.
Jenny looked down. “After the portal closed, the Riftkey fell down there.”
Astrea nodded and then jumped into the hole.
Jenny gasped and dropped to her knees to peer into the dark drain for her ghost companion. Years of water erosion had widened and smoothed the opening, and she had to choose her hand position carefully to avoid falling in. “Do you expect me to follow you down there?” Jenny called out.
There was no answer, of course, except for the rain that pelted the back of her head and dripped off of her face. Jenny straightened up and tightened the strap on her duffel bag. “I can do this.”
Jenny sat on the edge and swung her feet into the hole. After wedging her fingers into the cobblestones, she found a foothold and lowered herself into the drain. As she shimmied down the slick rock, the muscles in her arms and legs started to burn. After a minute, she couldn’t take it anymore. Jenny shoved her foot into a gap and allowed herself to rest.
Suddenly, the chunk of the wall her foot rested on gave way. Her stomach shifted into her throat. She scratched at the wall for a handhold, but only succeeded in splintering her black-painted fingernails on the rough stone. Gravity yanked her down, and she slammed into the drain channel.
Jenny screamed as pain shot up her back. Her scream turned into a gurgle as the iron taste of blood filled her mouth. She had bitten her tongue before and knew it took weeks to heal completely; she couldn’t imagine how long this gouge would take. Still, this fear was nothing compared to a realization that gripped her chest in a cold, iron fist. She couldn’t move. I’m paralyzed, and no one will ever find me. I’m going to die here, alone. I never should have run away.
Soon, the murky water rose past her ears and tickled her nose. I
t was colder than she thought possible, and her breathing came short and fast as water found its way into her sinuses and lungs. All she could do was lie there and stare at the opening six meters above her. Astrea stood over her with a look of concern, sunlit rain passing through her ethereal body.
Then, a warm buzzing sensation traveled up and down Jenny’s spine. After a minute, tingling pain, like pins and needles, spread throughout her body. Her fingers twitched, and a minute later she rolled onto her side and coughed up the wetness that had settled into her lungs. She stood up, and a dizzy spell made her stumble. She leaned against the stone wall for support, and rivulets of water slithered over her hands. She touched her burning back and winced. Her fingers came back spotted with blood. She turned around and inspected her surroundings. She stood in a channel about the size of a twin bed with one end that tapered toward a dark tunnel and was clogged by a darker shape.
“My bag!”
Inside, she found that her spare clothes were thoroughly soaked. Her hair and makeup supplies were fine, but her smartphone was ruined. A hollow pit formed in her chest. For two years, she had meticulously customized her phone’s apps and settings until it was perfect. It knows me better than I know myself, and I just got this new case with pink skulls too. I might as well have lost an arm.
Next, she pulled out the box of Lamingtons and saw murky water sloshing around the confections. She dropped the box of treats into the channel and watched it disappear into the pitch-black tunnel.
This couldn’t get any worse. Jenny sighed. I guess I should get to work.
She sank to her knees and thrust her hands into a thick mat of humus. As she shoveled the ancient sludge, a dank, musty odor assaulted her nose and made her gag. Jenny persevered, tossing pound after pound of slick mud into the tunnel. Thankfully, the task helped her forget about her aching back and her bleeding tongue.
After several minutes of digging, she felt a hard, straight edge—about a meter long—in the muck. A buzzing sensation shivered down her body. Jenny pushed her fingers under the object and lifted it free from the humus. She looked over at Astrea with a feeling of pride and accomplishment.
The Key of Astrea Page 11