“Yes, sir.”
“The rest of you report to the conference room to be stitched up.”
“What about the lab?” Rance asks. “Who’s going to guard it?”
“I’ll stay until the next shift arrives,” Radcliff says.
“I should stay as well.” Before they can protest, I gesture at the entrance. “They blew out the floodlights and tried to close the doors. I think I should ensure they don’t find a way into the lab.”
Radcliff gives me his hard stare. I meet it.
“Morgan, change of plans. Have Dr. Edwards come here first,” Radcliff says.
I don’t alter my expression, but inside I’m celebrating my small victory. Morgan and the others leave. Niall catches my eye on the way out. His amused smile is all I need to know that he’s applauding my efforts on the inside as well. My parents remain in the lab.
“We’ll wait until Dr. Edwards is finished,” Mom says to me when I tell them to go to bed.
I can’t believe it’s only oh-one-fifteen. Time must have slowed while we fought off the shadow-blobs. Or it could have been the adrenaline, which is wearing off.
“Did you expect them to try to close the doors?” Dad asks Radcliff.
“Obviously not. Truthfully, we didn’t know what to expect. We only have limited information about them.” He turns to me. “Do you know why the laser didn’t work?”
“No. It went right through them. Perhaps it’s too concentrated. Maybe Drs. Zhang and Carson will know better.”
“Did they show any signs of this level of intelligence before?” Radcliff asks.
The word intelligence hits me like a pulse wave. It’s one thing to think they’re mindless killing machines, another to believe they know what they’re doing and are purposely doing it. My heart rate spikes to unhealthy levels.
“Ara?”
Uh. I sort through my memories. “It seems like they waited until they had enough of them before they attacked us, so I guess that’s a sign. And they cut the lights in the pits.” Hard to forget the instant blackness and Beau’s cry of pain.
“And the emergency back-up lights,” my dad adds.
Even scarier.
“I’d hoped that was instinctual,” Radcliff says. “But the doors…” He rubs his right bicep. “Either they’re very strong or there were a lot of them. Did you see how many, Ara?”
“No. I poofed at least a dozen, but I didn’t see the ones pushing the doors.” Too busy fighting for my life.
My mom’s dark eyebrows crinkle together. “You said they waited for more HoLFs. That implies they didn’t all arrive at once.”
I mull over her comment. “I wasn’t in the pits that much, but each time I was, I spotted more.” Or was I more aware of their presence? No, the pressure increased. “If they’re coming from an alternate dimension, and the gateway is guarded by the Warriors, then, when Warriors are destroyed, maybe it gives the shadow-blobs an opportunity to cross over.”
“There’s no proof—”
“Of another dimension. I know, Mom. But there was no indication that these HoLFs existed, yet here they are.” Except that’s not quite right. Lan’s translation of the alien symbols did say the Warriors were built to protect against demons. What if the HoLFs aren’t the demons they’re referring to? What if— I gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asks. “You’re pale. You should sit down. Spencer, get the first aid kit.”
“I’m fine.” I bat away her efforts to guide me to a chair. “What if these HoLFs are the ones who built and installed the Warriors? And the reason they’re trying to kill us is they’re pissed because their Warriors were destroyed!”
All three adults stare at me as if I’ve just grown antennas. I review my logic and I don’t think it warrants such a reaction.
My dad is first to break the awkward silence. “That’s…an interesting way to look at it.”
“If that were the case…” Mom stares into the distance. “Being averse to light would be problematic. They’d have to travel through space in order to place the Warriors.”
Good point. Unless… “Space ships don’t need windows. Our Interstellar Class ships can navigate without them. And all the Warriors have been found underground, sealed off from natural light. Or, if they are from another dimension, maybe that one doesn’t have visible light.”
“Yet you hypothesized that the Warrior ghosts in the factory kept the HoLFs from attacking,” Radcliff says. “Wouldn’t that mean they are at odds?”
Another good point.
“Regardless, it’s all pure speculation,” Radcliff says. “Let’s hope that sensor comes up with some real answers.”
We all stare at the doors that lead to the pits. I imagine words mysteriously appearing on them one letter at a time with ominous music playing in the background. It spells out: Here there be demons.
Seven
2522:204
A throat clears behind us. Dr. Edwards stands at the threshold with his medical kit. His short gray hair is sticking up on one side. “Why wasn’t I informed ahead of time that you planned a dangerous mission, Officer Radcliff? I would have been happy to assign you a medic to be onsite.”
I look at Radcliff. The Chief of Security actually appears abashed. He probably didn’t want more people in harm’s way and I wonder if he’s going to offer an excuse.
“Sorry, Doc. It won’t happen again,” Radcliff says.
Huh. So he does know how to apologize. He still owes me one.
“Good. I don’t appreciate being woken in the middle of the night. Now, Ara, sit down before you fall over.”
Yes, the doctor knows about my new name. He saved my life. I’m indebted to this man so I sit and hold out my arms and then my legs for inspection. Five of the cuts require a couple small stitches that will dissolve in a few days. The rest of the lacerations aren’t deep, but they sting like crazy when he cleans them with a sharp antiseptic. Which makes me ponder the possibility of cross contamination. The shadow-blobs drew blood so they have to have our blood on their appendages. And what if they left behind some alien bacteria or a strange incurable disease in my wound. Could I turn into one of them?
My imagination must be set on overactive. I’d been stabbed by them before and I haven’t had any ill effects. Not that I noticed. As for them…would one of our viruses kill them? I don’t think the good doctor has a vial of Pavartian pox in his bag. And I doubt the adults would appreciate yet another wild speculation from me.
When Dr. Edwards leaves to tend to the others, my parents don’t follow him. Now what?
My mother sweeps her hand out, indicating me and the entrance to the pits. “How does this factor into our expedition to Pit 21?” she asks Radcliff.
“You saw the HoLFs in action. I’m hoping it has changed your mind about opening another pit.”
“None of the Warriors in Pit 21 have been damaged. The HoLFs appeared after the looters destroyed the ones in Pits 1 to 4.”
Not one to be out-stubborned—is that a word?—Radcliff says, “All the security volunteers for your team are covered with lacerations. They might not be willing to risk their lives again.”
Uncertain, Mom glances at me.
“I’m still going.”
“Why?” Radcliff asks me in a flat tone.
“We need information. The HoLFs aren’t our only problem.”
“You’re right. We still have Jarren’s blockade to breech. Once we can contact DES, then you’ll have time to search for the stolen files from Xinji. If you recover all of Lan’s research notes, you will have plenty of information,” Radcliff says.
“The key word being if. We can’t risk everyone’s lives for an if. We need to explore as many options as possible.”
My parents appear queasy. As if they’re torn between being proud of me and worried for me. Radcliff just shakes his head.
Dad goes over to one of the terminals in the lab. He inserts his tangs, but he keeps the screen dark. I check the shadows. Frequent
ly.
“If everything stays on schedule, we’ll leave for Pit 21 on day two-fourteen,” my dad says. He disentangles and stands. “Li-Li, can you ask the other officers if they’re still willing to go?”
“I can, but I’m pretty sure they will be.” And will probably be offended to be asked.
“Good. Do you need us to stay? Just in case?” He picks up his flashlight.
“No, go to bed.” I shoo them, but they each hug me before leaving.
Now it’s just me and Radcliff. He faces the entrance with his flashlight in hand. And do you know what? Guard duty is super boring. After an hour, I almost wish a shadow-blob would peek out just to give me something to do besides yawning. The desire to sleep grows with every passing second.
Soon not even my throbbing cuts are enough to keep me alert. I lean against one of the lab tables and fight the pull of gravity. Which, in spite of the law of physics, grows stronger each eternal minute.
I jerk awake when a head bob almost sends me crashing to the floor. Despite the late hour, Radcliff’s still vigilant.
“How do you do it?” I ask him.
“Do what?”
“Stay awake when nothing’s happening.”
“I’ve had years of practice.” He peers at me in amusement. “You don’t think I started out as the Chief of Security?”
Actually I couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. And that’s saying something considering my imagination lately. “You mean you weren’t born with a pulse gun in your hand?”
He laughs. And I just about faint. That’s only the second time I’ve made Radcliff laugh since I’ve known him.
“I’m sure my mother would have mentioned that,” he says, still smiling. “No, I began like you and Niall. A junior officer.”
Wow. “Did you grow up on a space ship like Niall?”
“No. I grew up on Earth and joined DES when they sent out a recruiting call in twenty-eighty.” His smile fades as he glances at his hands, then me. “I didn’t have any skills except with my fists—I lived in a rough neighborhood—so they assigned me to security.”
Ah. “Was it hard to leave your family and Earth behind?” I think of my brother who I still miss. Phoenix is in a time jump and due to arrive at Earth in forty-two years. At that time, he’ll still be eighteen and I’ll be fifty-nine A-years old if I stay on Yulin. Ugh.
“No. Best thing I ever did.” His gaze turns—if I didn’t know any better I’d say wistful. “I met Janela—Niall’s mother—on that first assignment. She worked in the galley until her paintings became famous.”
Famous? I learned about a bunch of painters from old Earth up to the new space-faring pioneers. I run through the names but no Janela Lawrence. Maybe Janela Radcliff? Recalling the paintings in my room, I try to envision the signature. And then it hits me. “She’s Jay El!”
“She was.”
Was. That heavy word just slices right through me. Way to go. “I’m sorry.” An inadequate, weak, stupid response.
He nods.
At least I’m smart enough not to ask how she died. Instead, I think of her paintings. My room is filled with them. “Niall didn’t tell me.”
“To him, she was just Mom.” A touch of amusement returns to Radcliff’s eyes. “Your mother is well known and highly respected in the scientific community. Do you tell your friends that?”
“No way. I complain to my friends about how annoying and overprotective she is.”
“Funny,” he says, deadpan. “I believe you think the same thing of me.”
“At least I’m not playing favorites.”
He huffs.
“Come on, you gotta admit I’m surrounded by guardian lions.”
“Guardian lions?”
Oops. “The ones in China. They guard—”
“I’ve heard of them.” Radcliff stares at the door to the pits. “It’s an apt description.”
And I can’t take any credit. “It’s Niall’s.”
No comment. I mull over all the stuff I’ve learned about Radcliff. If he joined DES in twenty-eighty, he had to be at least eighteen, which means…Radcliff is at least four hundred and sixty E-years old. Oh my stars. A million questions about Earth and the places he’s been bubble up my throat, but I swallow them all down. Bad enough I reminded him of his dead wife. Instead, I switch to a safer topic.
“With all those years of practice guarding…er…things, have you learned a trick to keep awake?” I ask.
“Coffee helps, and talking to your colleagues like we’re doing now. Except there are some situations where having a conversation is distracting and all your attention must be focused on the thing you’re keeping safe.”
I ignore the jab. “And then what do you do?”
“I imagine what would happen if I failed at my duty. Who would get hurt? What would happen?” He gestures to the entrance. “In this case, if the HoLFs escaped the pits, they would kill everyone on the base. That’s enough to keep me alert.”
And it should do the same for me. Yet after twenty minutes of quiet, I’m struggling to stay awake. I rub my arms, inflaming the healing cuts. Pain pushes the fatigue away. Eventually, though, that stops working. Maybe it’s because I know there’s no threat. No pressure or spikes of cold to indicate lurking shadow-blobs. I try pacing and bouncing on the balls of my feet. Maybe if I do a kata—
“There’s a reason I haven’t assigned you a shift to guard the lab or detention,” Radcliff says.
This ought to be good. “And that is?”
“It’s not in your skill set.”
Huh. “I’ve been training and I think I’ve shown I can handle the shadow—”
“That’s not what I meant. This is mindless work. You don’t do mindless. You never have. I need your sharp mind in the Q-net. Not sleep-deprived.”
“But I want to help the team.”
“And that’s how you can help the best. Think about it. What happens if we don’t contact DES? What happens if we don’t figure out how to counter the HoLFs?”
Fair point. Except, doing that isn’t being a part of the team. “Beau does both.”
“He does. However, he doesn’t have as many shifts on guard duty as some of the others.”
Oh. I’d hoped doing my share of guard duty would ease the tension between me and the majority of the officers.
“From what I’ve heard, you’re making an impression on the team,” Radcliff says.
Did the man just read my mind? Scary thought. “Yeah, the wrong one.” The words just slipped out of my mouth. I blame my exhaustion.
“Oh?” He focuses on me.
How to explain without sounding like a whiny four-year-old? “I think my…propensity for making suggestions and speaking my mind hasn’t been welcome.” And that Beau is scared of my new worming skills. Huh. Where did that come from? But when I examine our encounters, it makes more sense than jealousy.
“What are you going to do about it?” Radcliff asks.
Me? I tried easing their workload, but that didn’t work. I asked for a shift. I…sense this is a trick question. “Nothing.”
“Good. Keep making those suggestions. It’s my job to decide if they’re worthwhile or not. The safety of this team is on me, not you.”
I knew that. Yet I obviously needed to hear it because it helps. A lot.
Bendix and Ho arrive at oh-five-hundred for their shift in the lab. I’m struck by how Ho Liu is the complete opposite of Gordy Bendix. He’s thin and wiry with black hair and olive colored skin like mine. I’m glad the swelling around his nose has gone.
“All’s quiet,” Radcliff says.
The men look at me as if waiting for confirmation.
“The lab is clean,” I say. “No signs of HoLFs.”
“Any chance they’ll get through?” Bendix gestures to the entrance to the pits.
I cover my surprise over the fact he asked me. “They couldn’t get past the floodlights in the lab when we had the doors open. But there’s always a chance they
might find a way in.” An idea occurs to me. “Did you feel cold when you were at the door?” I ask Radcliff.
“It did seem cooler, but I thought it was from the pits.”
I’ll have to check with the others to see if they noticed. In the meantime, I say, “If the temperature quickly drops in here, skedaddle and sound the alarm.”
Bendix’s wide shoulders relax a bit. Ho shoots me a grateful smile. Progress.
Radcliff raises an eyebrow. “Skedaddle?”
“Move with the utmost haste, sir,” Bendix supplies.
“I see Officer Dorey has been in the dictionary cluster again. Let’s go before everyone wakes up, Lawrence.”
Radcliff and I head back to security. The hallways are mostly deserted. Radcliff takes point and checks each corridor first. We only have to change routes twice to avoid a couple early risers. We arrive back at our unit at oh-five-thirty. I aim for my bedroom.
“Training at oh-eight-hundred,” he calls, sounding gleeful.
I bite my lip to keep a groan from escaping. It’s all part of the lesson. Plus I can handle one day without a good night’s sleep. Right?
Oh-seven-thirty arrives two seconds after my head settled on the pillow. I swear time is plotting against me. Dragging my body out of bed is a colossal effort, but I manage to change into my workout clothes, eat, and arrive in the training room one minute early. I squint in the bright lights as Elese scans me.
“You look like hell, Lawrence,” she says.
“Good morning to you, too.”
She grunts in amusement. “How deep are your injuries?”
Pushing up the tunic’s sleeves, I examine the rows of healing cuts. The ointment Dr. Edward used accelerates the process, but it still takes time. “Eleven stitches. You?”
She reveals her arms. “Fifteen stitches.”
“So I guess we won’t be sparring today.”
“You got that right. We’ll focus on cardio and strength. Give me forty laps around the room, Recruit.”
We really means me doing all the work while Elese supervises. The morning turns into a blur of endless exercises, but I remember to ask her about the temperature change in the pits before I start target practice.
Chasing the Shadows (Sentinels of the Galaxy Book 2) Page 11