Sylvia scowled at me, but Wade looked more hesitant.
“What’s he talking about?” Redden asked.
“He claims our government is being run by a criminal named Anthony Burke,” Sylvia explained. “And that he’s going to send people to kill him.”
Redden furrowed his brow. Then he started laughing. “Okay. I’ll look into that.” His smile disappeared. “Just hand him over when they get there. And handle the Messenger.”
The feed cut, leaving us four standing there. I spoke up. “So, just to reiterate, those government agents on their way here are going to murder me. You guys care about that?”
“No,” Sylvia answered. “Too many lives are at stake for us to waste time worrying about whatever problems you think you have.” Sylvia walked over to the Messenger. “I guess we need to work on making you talk. Have you considered making that easy on us?”
Again, the young blonde woman smiled as if she were in control of the situation. “The only important thing you need to know is that this is going to end very, very badly for you.”
Wade walked over to one of the metal doors and hit some buttons on a keypad. The door opened, revealing a small, empty room. “Let’s just secure her in one of these cells until we figure out what to do with her.”
“Until you man up enough to torture a girl,” I said with a chuckle.
Wade looked at me. He was not amused. Sylvia dragged the Messenger over and shoved her into the room.
“Are you at least going to take off my cuffs?” she asked.
Sylvia hit a button on the panel, and the metal door slid firmly into place. “You know interrogation techniques?” she asked Wade.
“Not my specialty,” he said. “We’ll find someone.”
“You guys aren’t very organized, are you?” I asked.
Sylvia marched over to me, a scowl on her face. “No, we are not. Most of the government has collapsed, we can’t trust anyone, and we’re barely holding it together against an unknown threat. I don’t know what your game is, Rico. Yay, you saved those people on Lavaria, but at the end of the day, all I know is you’re a killer who’s a known associate of another killer, and you are not helping us where it counts. Are you going to cooperate in bringing in Melanie Fincher?”
I shrugged. “I’m not big on cooperation.”
Sylvia tapped her fingernails against my face. “Remember, I know how to hurt you. Very easily.”
I suppressed a shudder. I’m not usually scared of pain, but we were not talking a small amount of pain when that Fazium reactivated. I decided on a different tack. I kept my expression serious. “Di — Melanie is a person I trust unlike any other. If she has information on Mountain Fall and is keeping it from you, it’s for a very good reason. Such as that your government is being run by a criminal mastermind ... like I mentioned earlier. The one whose people are on their way to kill me.”
Wade put his hand on my shoulder. “We won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ve got my word. We’ll check out whoever it is that’s coming. Okay?”
I sighed. “Great, Wade. I’m sure your good intentions will thwart any vast criminal conspiracies out there.”
“Let’s just secure him,” Sylvia said, pushing me toward one of the metal doors.
I stumbled a bit on the shove. “Come on, guys. I just woke up from a coma and have taken a beating since then. Does this cell even have a bed or a TV?”
Wade opened the cell and looked inside. “Well, it’s —”
I fell back into Sylvia. I got my bound hands on her stun pistol (well, I was pretty sure it was the stun pistol and not the lethal one) and fired it into her. I then leaped at the surprised Wade, slamming into him and knocking him into the cell. I quickly spun over and hit the lock button on the panel just before the Fazium activated to “heal” me from my violent collision with Wade. I collapsed, writhing, on the floor next to the unconscious Sylvia. It lasted only a few seconds, and I unsteadily got to my feet as I very faintly heard banging on the thick, metal door behind me.
There, didn’t kill anyone.
“An argument could be made that you need to help these people,” Dip answered.
Let’s make that argument from a safe distance.
I bent down to look for keys to my cuffs on the unconscious Sylvia, but it was pretty awkward with my hands still bound behind me. I blindly searched even as the door to the room opened and two people in suits stepped in. One was human and the other a large, gray ramber (bleeds green). They took a quick look at the scene and then approached me, the ramber lifting me to my feet.
“We were told you were trouble,” the man said.
“That was what Anthony told you?” I asked.
The man nodded. “Mr. Burke has quite an interest in you. But not just you, he —”
The door opened again. It was Jim from the parking garage.
“He tried to escape,” the man in the suit explained. “But we have things under control.”
Jim glanced at the unconscious Sylvia but kept his attention on the man and the ramber as seven other men and women entered the room behind him, all their expressions cold. I wrested free from the ramber and moved out of the way before the bolts started flying, tearing down the two in suits.
Now all the guns were pointed at me. I looked at Jim. “Thanks ... I guess.”
Jim walked over to the cell the Messenger was in. “Whoever you are, you better understand that only one side is winning this. More and more are coming to that conclusion.” He motioned to the seven that accompanied him. He then proceeded to open the cell, letting the Messenger out and taking off her cuffs.
“We need to get you out of here,” Jim said. He glanced at me. “But what do we do with him?”
“We have plans.” The Messenger approached me and smiled. “But first we need an audience.”
CHAPTER 7
My instinct was to turn away, but I stared it down. I do not show fear. And I was not afraid — at least I don’t think I was. I’m just a private individual and have never cared for cameras. But there was that little lens pointed right at my face, and it made me feel vulnerable in a way a gun never could.
“You got a script you want me to read or what?” I asked. The Messenger and her eight armed rescuers — who looked to be other agents at whatever government agency owned this building — had quietly taken over an office, the dozen or so workers kneeling by a wall with their hands behind their heads. Jim was operating the small camera, glancing nervously at the hostages.
“We really should get out of here,” Jim said.
“You will do whatever the Fathom tell you,” the Messenger said kindly but firmly as she checked herself in a small mirror. She was a bit of a mess, with a cut on her face, but she fixed her hair and applied some makeup. They had fixed me up a little, too, grabbing some street clothes for me so I at least wasn’t in the stupid emergency spacesuit anymore and was semi-presentable for the camera.
Jim asked more quietly, “We’re not going to hurt anyone here, though, right?”
The Messenger put on the last touches of her lipstick. “That is up to them.” Her eyes turned to me. “And the Angel of Death.” She put down the mirror and stood up straight. “I’m ready.”
“I didn’t get my makeup yet,” I objected.
The Messenger gave me an annoyed look, but as soon as the camera was pointed at her, she was beaming.
“The feed is going live,” Jim announced.
“Hello, citizens of the Galactic Alliance. I am one of the Messengers for the Fathom. We are closer than ever to bringing order back to the Alliance and leading us into a new era of peace and prosperity unlike anything the universe has ever known. But once again the illegitimate faction of the old, corrupt Alliance has tried to disrupt this. We were defied on Lavaria — an act that puts billions of lives at risk. And the old faction captured and injured me, a peaceful envoy of the Fathom. I know many people are very scared, and these acts of violence only add to that fear.
“Now,
you may have heard rumors that the so-called Angel of Death was involved in this — the man who exposed the corrupt core of the Galactic Alliance, causing the Fathom to act and rescue all of you. And I am here to confirm those rumors.”
Jim briefly pointed the camera at me, then back at the Messenger. “He is a man known as Rico,” she continued, “and he was in a hospital on Lavaria, in a coma, unaware of all that has happened in the past weeks. And in that confusion, he mistook those who serve the Fathom for the enemy.”
The Messenger walked over to the hostages, standing near a mousy-haired woman in glasses but still facing the camera. “Now, an example must be made for what happened. With times so dire, leniency only leads to more death. Much of the planet of Lavaria has already paid a price, but there must still be retribution for my imprisonment, as that is symbolically a strike against the Fathom themselves, the ones I speak for.” The Messenger looked down at the woman in glasses, who shuddered. “Examples must be made.”
“Hey,” I interjected, then chose my words more carefully. “Can’t we find a more peaceful way to handle this?” I glanced at Jim, who already seemed uncomfortable with what was going on, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
The Messenger’s smile grew. “I’m glad you feel that way. The Fathom are merciful and want nothing more than to avoid loss of life. But people must be clear that the only way to bring peace is to join us in forging a new and beautiful future. Now that you understand more of what is going on, Rico, I’m sure you will pledge to cooperate with us and help us destroy the criminal factions that frustrate our abilities to unite all sentient species. The Fathom believe such a pledge will be enough to teach people to stand with us and not against us. So what say you?”
The camera now pointed at me, and this game was pretty clear. The Fathom were threatened by me. My folk hero status after my righteous mass murder on Nar Valdum meant that seeing me stand up to the Fathom today was only going to empower more to do so. But if they had me on their side, that would demoralize their opponents. And if I refused to join them, they would kill me on camera — and the hostages, most likely — which would also demoralize those who might imagine I’d be some force against them.
So what’s the right choice here?
“This is kind of a complex one,” Dip answered. “If you did get killed defying the Fathom, you might serve as a martyr and inspire people that way.”
Why would I care? I’d be dead.
“A hero is usually concerned about what happens after he dies.”
These people would get killed too. Would letting the Fathom kill me and them be the moral decision?
“There are many complex factors —”
Ugh. Whatever. It’s just a hypothetical anyway.
I looked at the Messenger. She smiled at me, pleasantly enough, but I could sense the threats under the demeanor. “I do have something to say.”
The camera was still on me, but I didn’t look at the lens. Instead I looked at the seven holding guns on me, meeting each of their eyes as I spoke. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take one of your guns, and all of you here are going to die.” I turned to the Messenger. “And then I’m going to hunt down the Fathom ... whatever they actually are. Are they hearing me through you? Because I want them to know this: Maybe I won’t find you today ... or tomorrow ... but I don’t see it taking more than a week. Then I’m going to stab you to death with something really primitive. Like a pen.”
A few of the Messenger’s people seemed hesitant, like they actually thought I might follow through with my words. The Messenger scowled. “This is unfortunate,” she stated, her voice still calm and firm. “You are just a psychopath boasting foolishly. People have put some faith in you, but you are nothing more than a deranged killer. Perhaps we should demonstrate how weak you are. All it will take is a small cut to make you scream in pain.”
I laughed. “Sure. You come over here, dollface, and do that, and let’s see what happens.”
“You don’t get to make threats,” the young woman spat at me. “You are tied up and at our mercy. And we are done with mercy.”
I again met the eyes of all the people with guns. They couldn’t hide their fear. They had all seen what I had done before. “None of you are leaving this room alive.”
“You think you can bluff us out of killing you?” the Messenger asked.
“On the contrary, you kinda have to try now,” I said. “Everyone watching this has to be curious how I’m going to do it. Of course, the first one to touch the trigger dies. That’s how it always works.”
The Messenger was shaking with anger. “Just shoot him! Shoot him!”
I smiled down the barrels, each of them waiting for another to be the first to fire. And then there was the pop of a blaster firing. And then another. And it took them a moment to realize it was from a gun aimed at them. While I had all their attention focused entirely on me, the woman in glasses with the hostages had opened fire. She felled a third before they finally turned toward her. Now, guns off me, I made my move, rising from my chair and jumping toward one of the Messenger’s fallen people. I quickly grabbed a dropped gun with my hands still bound behind my back. Then I turned my back on the armed gunmen and opened fire, hitting them more accurately than they could hit me, as this was actually something I had practiced on numerous occasions. I mean, let’s face it, having to fire a gun with my hands cuffed behind my back seemed pretty likely to come up, and smartly, I had wanted to be prepared. And let that be a lesson to anyone trying to incapacitate me: If my trigger fingers are still free, I will find a way to kill you.
Between the surprise attack from the hostage and my behind-the-back firing, soon all the gunmen were dropped except for Jim, who had fled the room — making my previous boast about no one leaving the room alive a lie. Luckily, the camera was lying on the floor by now and had missed the shooting, which was good, because despite how cool it sounds that I can shoot people down behind my back, it looks really awkward.
I looked at my rescuer and smiled. “The Alliance agents here said they were going to use me to draw you out.”
Diane tossed off her glasses and grinned a little. “Good plan.”
The Messenger was still standing there, looking too baffled to speak. I approached her, not looking at her but at those beyond. “If you can hear me, know that I’m coming for you.” I then headbutted her. This knocked the Messenger unconscious, but it also hurt me enough for the Fazium to engage, the pain dropping me to the floor, where I fell hard on my face since my hands were still bound.
Diane helped me to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
“A lot,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get going and we’ll catch each other up.”
Diane blasted apart my cuffs, and I headed for the door, but she went to the stunned hostages. “You all okay?” she asked them.
“See, she remembered this wasn’t just about saving yourself,” Dip said.
“We are. Thanks,” one woman answered Diane and then looked at me. “Thank you so much.”
“Just doing my job,” I lied, because unlike with contract kills, I was not getting paid for this, so it was more like a new hobby than a job. “If anyone asks what happened to me, I went to go save the universe.” I pointed at the Messenger. “Someone better keep an eye on her.”
“This way,” Diane said, leading me out the door. We quickly made our way down the hallway. There was so much boiling inside me that I wanted to share with the woman next to me, but now was not the time. This was emphasized by the fact that we soon saw a dead body. It was Jim, and he had been shot multiple times.
“Drop your guns!” Wade ordered us, getting the drop on us from a side hallway. “I think we all need to calm down and have a little chat. I’m guessing you’re Melanie Fincher.”
I simply lowered my weapon, but Diane, who was closer to Wade, dropped her pistol and raised her hands. “There’s a lot going on you don’t understand,” she said. “You need to —”
She didn’t finish the statement, instead quickly grabbing Wade’s gun and elbowing him in the face. She swept his legs, and he was soon on the floor with his own gun pointed at his head. “You have a Messenger of the Fathom lying on the floor back in that office,” Diane said as she picked up the gun she’d dropped with her free hand. “Why don’t you focus on that?”
Diane turned to leave. “See you around, dude,” I said to Wade as I turned to follow her.
“Let’s try not to kill anyone if we don’t have to,” Diane told me. “Good guys and bad guys are kind of nebulous right now.”
“Non-lethal is not really my thing,” I answered, “but I’m always up for something new.”
We reached the parking garage and quickly got into a large red vehicle. Diane sat in the driver’s seat, and I took the seat next to her. She wasted no time getting the car off the ground and rocketing us out of the garage. Out of the city, I could see flashing lights speeding toward us.
“The police have been alerted,” Diane said as she looked out the windshield and at her console intently. “Hold on.”
The vehicle tilted so that it pointed straight up and increased even more in speed, pinning us to our seats. “This vehicle is space-faring?” I asked.
“Just about,” Diane answered.
As we rocketed up into the atmosphere, I stared at Diane’s face. A face of warmth and strength. Determined, intelligent eyes that were calm in the storm of chaos around us. I was madly in love with her. So why was there a sinking feeling within me?
“Are you scared?” Dip asked. I ignored him.
We soon were out of the atmosphere, and just ahead of us was a large ship — a long-haul cargo ship of the type that would have living quarters. Diane took us into its hangar and hit a few buttons on a computer on her wrist. “Initiating jump.”
There was that odd feeling where everything — mass, gravity, direction — suddenly loses meaning. It’s over quickly, and then everything rights itself. Diane let out a long breath that she had been holding. “We’re safe now,” she said as she opened the door to the car and stepped out into the hangar.
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