The Lightforce Rebellion
by Christopher Walker
http://www.stormherald.com/
Text Copyright © 2011 Christopher Walker
All Rights Reserved
Illustration by Alex Miller
A Digital-Original Novel
First
Edition: December 2011
First Smashwords Edition: January 2012
Second Smashwords Edition: May 2012
Revision: 2.0.1
Sign
up for Chris's newsletter to be notified of
future releases and promotions.
The Lightforce Rebellion
is a work of fiction. All characters, places, events, and situations
portrayed are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.
This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 – Of Brutes and Babysitters
Chapter 6 – Mayor of the Golden Armor
Chapter 11 – Centrifugal Force
Chapter 14 – Ghosts of the Great War
Chapter 16 – Life and Betrayal
Chapter 18 – Inaccurate Truths
Chapter 19 – Path to the Barrows
Chapter 20 – A Thousand Truths Spoiled
Chapter 24 – A Suspicious Door
Chapter 28 – The Men Who Would Fight
Chapter 30 – Casualties of War
Chapter 33 – Redemption and Rebirth
To Seiya
1985-2011
She created worlds of mathematical and aesthetic beauty from the ashes handed to her by life. A precision artist. We all miss you.
. . . and to Mrs. Gourley
You once told me I needed to find some opinions. I think I finally figured out a winsome way to articulate them. Thanks.
Acknowledgments
The setting of this novel is in large part due to the influences of some awesome people. They created the virtual world that inspired the realm of Foronar. Journey to SW City and play the MMO exploration game we’ve built around it by pointing your browser to visit.swcity.net.
I want to publicly thank the SW City crew—Sam (SW Comit), Shane (Syntax), “Captain MAD” Mike, Dane (Espilae), “Hyper” Anthony, Charles (Ferruccio), Clark (Vornox), Kenny (Onilink), Shanan (Absolute Monarch), Joshua (Byte), Chris (Ima Genius), my favorite dining room accessory Jarren (Baro), and all of the others who have contributed to SW City in ways both large and small throughout the years. There are too many of you to list, but you are all appreciated.
I also owe a great debt of gratitude to my early readers Adam, Andrew, Anthony, Shanan, and my parents Craig and Donna for helping me whip this thing into shape, and to Josh and Kas from Grail Quest Books, Jennifer, Jeff, Laurie, and Brad for their advice and help. This novel would not be what it is without them. Any omissions or mistakes are purely the fault of the author.
CHAPTER 1
Fogbound Escape
“Great,” Zach muttered, “Just great.”
“Hey, Moron! Where ya going?” taunted the short, squat-looking kid on the bike behind him. He was leading a pack of other kids, also on bikes. They joined in, a sing-song of mockery.
Zach pedaled harder, shifting his shoulders to readjust his backpack, wishing that he lived in a larger town where parents actually drove their kids to school. “Or a flatter town,” he muttered. Each breath wafted back against his face like the puff of a cigarette. It was getting harder now. Almost to the top, though.
“Come on, Zach. Slow down and talk to us.”
“Not on your life, Rick,” he shouted. “Or mine.”
“You afraid, Moron?”
Zach gave a mock laugh. That was getting old. Real fast. “Almost late for school, Rick.”
“We’re gonna catch you way before then. Might as well get it over with!”
He glanced behind him. Rick was right. They were getting closer. Way too close. He sailed past the stop sign at the top of the hill.
“Catch me then!” He redoubled his effort, pedaling hard down the other side, gaining speed.
The insults stopped as Rick and his gang gave chase.
A thick fog bank covered the plain below, just tall enough to obscure any traffic on the road ahead of him. Above it, he could see across a bare field and through a stand of trees on the right side of the road—perhaps three-quarters of a mile away—the white rooftop of the school’s gym. He’d never make it. Not like this.
Still, he pedaled. Harder. He had to.
He plunged into the fog bank and his view of the school vanished, replaced by milk-white mist. He glanced back and saw Rick pulling up on his right.
“Hello, Zachy,” Rick said, voice mischievous.
Rick reached for his backpack in an attempt to unbalance him, but Zach swerved away. The bully suddenly vanished from sight. Zach whipped his head back around, saw two curious glowing balls of light and Rick putting on the brakes. He focused on the lights, and realized with a jolt that they weren’t just lights. They were headlights!
It was too late to stop. He kept going, hoping he could beat the vehicle through the intersection. Tires squealed. He felt the wind of displaced air on his backside. The sound of the horn from an old pickup truck, crying out the driver’s distress.
He didn’t look back. He kept pedaling.
The sounds of the driver and Rick shouting back and forth faded away behind him. But they were still there. So very there. That truck wouldn’t stop them for long.
Zach searched his mind for some way to escape. The ditch on the left was too shallow. Just beyond it was the high school team’s practice field. He could pedal out into it and just wait. But no, that was too obvious. And if the morning practice was running late, the team might see him and that wouldn’t do. Especially if his brother was with them. Zach could handle himself, thanks.
But the field on the right . . . yes. Shadows loomed ahead of him. The stand of trees! That would do nicely. He steered into the ditch, splashing through standing water, muddying his pants. He hopped off his bike and ran beside it, guiding it through the stubble of the field to the trees.
Crunching over freshly fallen leaves, he laid the bike down and crouched behind a few of the trees that would obscure him from the road. Between them and the fog on the ground, they might miss him.
As the whirring of tires against the pavement came closer, he suddenly found himself sucking in air, though he did his best to keep his breathing quiet.
Shadows on the road, shaped like kids on bikes. They slowed to a halt.
“Zach Moron, we know you’re here somewhere!”
Zach rolled his eyes, not daring to reply. These guys needed a larger selection of insults.
They waited for a few seconds. “Where are you Zachy? Wittle Zachy lost?”
Chuckles.
Zach ground his teeth. He hated these guys. These sophomores had decided it was fun to pick on the smallest freshman they could find. And he was a bit small for his age. But so what? He was fourteen and a freshman now. He shouldn’t have to stand for this.
His older brother didn’t have to. Adam was taller. On the football team. Anybody could join the team at a school this small, but honestly, this was the sort of treatment Zach expected to get in those places, so he didn’t bother with sports. He had enough trouble with extra-curricular violence as it was.
“I don’t think he’s here, Rick,” said one.
“Yeah, maybe not. We’ll get him after school. Come on, guys.”
School. Crap! He had almost forgotten. He glared at their retreating backsides. He was going to be late. Again.
He waited an extra few minutes just to make sure they’d gotten a good lead on him. He didn’t want to show up at the school while they were still outside. He could probably sneak inside anyway, assuming nobody was in the halls.
He picked up his bike and guided it back up onto the road.
“Welcome to high school, Zach.” He kicked a piece of asphalt that lay on the side of the road, mounted up and began the slow ride to school. “Maybe you should take driver’s ed next semester.”
Normally he wouldn’t be allowed to drive until he was sixteen, but in small towns like Lincoln, kids often helped their parents tend the family farm, and states like Kansas allowed younger teens to drive to school and back home. But a parent had to ride with them. Zach’s dad happened to do some farm work, so he could apply if he wanted. If he could talk his parents into it, anyway. They’d rather he bike to school when the weather was nice, maybe so they wouldn’t have to cart him around. He didn’t really know, but if that was the reason, he agreed with it. Nothing was more embarrassing than having your mom drop you off in front of everyone. But if he was the one driving, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.
He sighed.
Zach pedaled into the school parking lot just in time to hear the bell ring. “Figures . . . ”
He stopped when he saw the bikes of Rick’s gang in the rack. Not the safest place to park. He pedaled back the way he had come, took a left around the edge of the gym and parked at the rack at the side entrance there. Someone had propped the door open. “Finally, some luck.”
He walked as quickly and quietly as possible down the linoleum hallway. There were no classrooms on this end of the school, just the wood shop and gym. The walls, done up in sheet rock, were chipped and dented from over a decade of student wear and tear. He reached the commons area, where blue carpet took over, and just as he reached the entrance to the junior high school wing, he spotted Mrs. Gorman rounding the far corner. Frizzy, curled gray hair and violet blouse, Mrs. Gorman was a thin woman known for her stern expression and a reputation to match. If a kid wanted to get an A in her World History class, that kid earned it. She walked briskly, a stack of papers in her hand. Her eyes zeroed in on him.
Zach’s widened, but he fought down the urge to panic, instead opting for the casual approach. He slowed down as he approached her, feeling like a rodent under the steely gaze of a large hawk eyeballing its next meal. The distance along the edge of the commons suddenly seemed to grow longer. She stopped near the main entrance and waited for him to come to her.
He did, realizing he’d been caught, but trying to stay casual nonetheless.
“Um, hi, Mrs. Gorman,” he squeaked out. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Moran.” She looked him up and down, probably noting the mud splotches on his jeans. “It’s my planning period. There’s the teacher’s lounge,” she added drily and pointed toward a door a little ways into the commons. “By the way, you’ve got a leaf in your hair.”
He reached up, feeling around for it. “Oh, thanks.” He plucked it off and crunched it up in his hand.
“Late again, Mr. Moran?”
He thought about it. Just once. He could lie to her. But it would be obvious. He sighed, dropping his head. “Yes.”
“Same reason?”
“Yeah.” What was the use? He looked back up at her, and she nodded, as if expecting that answer.
“You know, Zach, you’re going to have to face them someday.”
“I doubt it, Mrs. Gorman.”
“Doubt what?”
“Well, they’re bigger. What do you expect?”
“From my students? Courage, for one.”
“Yes, Mrs. Gorman.”
“Come on. Off to the office with you.”
“Okay.”
She nodded and watched him go. The office wasn’t far. Despite his mood, he forced a smile before opening the door.
“Hi, Mrs. Hanks.”
“Tardy, Zach?” She smiled back at him, perhaps sympathetically. She was an older woman, but her hair was still a shiny brunette. She was nice, too.
“Fraid so.”
“You know this is your third one, right?”
He gulped. “It is?”
She nodded. “You know the rules, Zach. Detention after school today.” She ripped a pink slip off of her pad and handed it to him over the top of the privacy shield on the desk. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
He closed the door behind him and trudged to his locker. He stared at its blue paint, and then banged his head against it, closing his eyes.
It was only 8:30. Could this day get any worse?
CHAPTER 2
Of Brutes and
Babysitters
She was so bored. She really didn’t want to be here.
Erika leaned against the wall, completely disinterested in the scene going on where her “parental unit” Leonard sat on the couch across from an old lady in her rocking armchair. Erika rolled her eyes at his back.
The better to make faces at him, she thought with a smirk.
Between the two adults sat an oval glass-topped coffee table upon which the old lady had just set it down a small, amber-colored stone of some kind. Its crystalline structure seemed to shine with its own inner light.
“It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?” the old lady asked them.
“Yeah, it’s lovely,” Erika replied. “Can we go now?”
Leonard twisted around to look at her. Bald, well-muscled and dressed in a business suit, he looked every bit the intimidating corporate mogul and family man who knew what he wanted and when he wanted it. It didn’t scare her in the least. “Not yet, dear.”
Erika rolled her eyes and exhaled, waving him back to his business. Whatever.
“My husband purchased it, oh, I have to say about forty years ago, now. It was quite something. I’m not sure where he found it, but he was always fond of it, ever since . . . ” The lady kept chattering about some line of relatives twice removed, who they were related to, and the sorts of things old people liked to talk about. Why did these things always have to take so long? These people never just let them pay and get out. They always had stories to tell. It was disgusting how lonely they were.
Erika looked around the apartment. Dust motes mingled in the sunlight shining through the sliding glass door behind the old lady. The little balcony beyond looked out over a busy street. Bookshelves and cabinets and an old organ crowded the too-small apartment. The dining area housed a too-large dining table next to a spacious kitchen. Spacious for an apartment, anyway. A clock ticked loudly from somewhere, grating on her nerves, making her even more impatient than normal.
And her sundress also itched. It was a nice yellow color that faded into white just below her waistline and then to a dark brown around the hem, accented by a dark brown sash around her waist. She thought it was pretty, but the sash was annoying the crap out of her.
She readjusted it and noticed a set of figurines of human fishermen on the metal stand nearby. They’d been daintily arranged around a little glass mirror that represented a little fishing pond. A smile slowly crept across her face. She let her right hand drop down, brushing against one of the taller figurines. The thing wobbled the inch it needed to find the edge and tumbled gracefully over, shattering head-first on the hardwood floor, its pieces spreading in a radius around the impact area before coming to a rest.
“Erika!” At the sound of her name she whipped her head up and locked eyes with Leonard. The clock ticked. She let an embarrassed smile flicker across her face and mumbled an apology.
“I apologize for my daughter,” Leonard said, turning back to the woman. “She can be clumsy at times. We’ll clean it up so you don’t have to bend over.”
“Don’t you worry. They’re just trifles. As long as she didn’t break them all,” the old lady laughed. “The broom is right over there in the closet.”
Leonard turned back to Erika and glared, making sure she was moving.
“Now, as I was saying—”
“Mrs. Travis,” Leonard cut her off before she could start up again, “I do appreciate the conversation, but we are running a little behind schedule. Do you think I could go ahead and pay you?”
Erika retrieved the broom and cast a glance at the old lady as she walked back to the figurine’s final resting place. Mrs. Travis was looking at Leonard with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean, pay me?”
“We’re here to purchase your jewel.”
Erika knelt down and began sweeping the pieces into the broom pan.
“You are? But it’s not for sale.”
Leonard’s voice took on a tone of deliberate patience. “But Mrs. Travis, you did say you had too much stuff in this apartment.”
Mrs. Travis looked around her at the too-crowded room, and nodded. “I do. But not this. Don’t you want anything else? It’s all high quality heirloom furniture. I’ll make you a good deal.”
“We are really only interested in the jewel, Mrs. Travis.”
Erika, her job done, stood and deposited the remains into a nearby trash bin and returned the broom to its home in the closet.
A look of disappointment crossed the older woman’s face. “A pity. I suppose you’ll be leaving now?”
“Actually—”
That idiot Leonard was ruining it. “You loved your husband, didn’t you, Mrs. Travis?” Erika cut in.
Mrs. Travis nodded at her as she crossed the room toward the older woman.
“He was such a wonderful man. We had many good years together. Many good years . . . ” She nodded and looked wistfully off into the distance. “He was very proud of this jewel, you know. That’s why I want to keep it. It reminds me of him.”
Erika sat down on the couch next to Leonard and leaned in toward her. “My grandmother had one like this too. She loved how it would sparkle in the noonday sun. I remember as a kid just being entranced by its beauty. I really liked it. She did this thing, you know, where she wrote your name down on a little sticker and stuck it on the item that she wanted you to have after she had gone. But when she died, I never got to have it because of some legal stuff. Her will wasn’t right or something and it got sold off. That’s why I asked my dad here to find a jewel that’s similar. Yours reminds me of my grandmother.”
Erika smiled gently at Mrs. Travis, letting her take in the story. The old woman sat there, seemingly at war with herself.
“I’m sorry. I just thought that—”
“No, dear, I understand now. It means so much to me. But if it means that much to you, I’ll go ahead and sell it.”
Erika broke out into a smile. “Really? Thank you so much!”
Leonard pulled out his checkbook. “A check will do, I presume?”
“Well my son has told me to accept only cash, you know with how things have gone downhill over the years. But you folks are so nice, spending the morning to chat and all.”
“Your son sounds very wise. We can come back later with cash if you want.”
“Oh I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. You’re such nice people.”
Erika would have smiled at that if she hadn’t already been doing so.
“Thank you, Mrs. Travis.” Leonard ripped the check from his checkbook and handed it to her. She leaned forward and accepted it, shaking hands with him.
Leonard pocketed the jewel and they stood up together. Mrs. Travis showed them out, wishing them a good day.
They exited the apartment building and the sound of the city around them rushed into Erika’s ears. Around the corner sat their limousine. Leonard opened the door for her, and she stepped in. The limousine bobbed down briefly and then returned to hovering at its original height of about a foot off the ground.
She was almost completely inside when she felt the smack across the back of her head.
“Ow!” She sat down behind the driver, rubbing the back of her head, glaring at Leonard as he got in and shut the door. “Why’d you do that?”
“That’s for breaking the figurine. I caught your message. It was ‘hurry up’. Don’t ever do that again, girl.”
The limousine began to move, merging into traffic.
“Hey, I was helping you sell the act, man. Clumsy little me breaks something and we go and clean it up for her, cause we’re nice people.”
“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll find yourself with more than a slap upside the head to remember it by.”
The thug’s whole head was turning a pleasing shade of red. She couldn’t resist one more poke. “We got it, didn’t we? Soren will be happy. Stop being so whiny.”
He dug out a pocket lighter and began to light up a cigarette. “Whiny isn’t the word for it. Babysitting is.”
Erika snorted and turned toward the window, ignoring the rest of the man’s complaining. Only when her face was out of Leonard’s eyesight did she let a small smile creep across it. She had made Leonard mad, and that always brightened her day.
She watched the apartment and office buildings of the South Ending neighborhood as they passed by them. People bustled up and down the sidewalks and cars and taxis hovered next to them, packing the streets. But inside, there was only the muted sound of the limousine’s hover engine and the annoyed chatter of Leonard. He was such a boar. Yet never boring. She knew enough about him that she could creep right up to the line without crossing over it. The closer she could get without going too far, the more fun it was to antagonize him. It was a delicious challenge.
The limousine curved around the edge of the neighborhood, took a left at Easy Street, and eventually entered a well-to-do suburban neighborhood called Roterra Bay, nestled along prime beachfront real estate. They pulled over across the street from a squat, A-frame-shaped house with a garage attached. The house was made out of a tasteful light-colored pine wood with a log-cabin style framing and featured a broad window situated above the front door.
As Leonard got out of the door on the left side, Erika decided not to tempt the man’s annoyance and risk another thwap, so she opened her door and crossed the street to the house and went inside.
The interior was well-appointed. The log-cabin framing was exposed, but it didn’t look out of place. An open staircase led up to the second level directly in front of her, and beyond it through a floor-to-ceiling window she could see a patio, and then the beach. She wandered toward the kitchen to her right and then caught sight of the man she was looking for tinkering with a sail boat out on the dock. She threw open the patio door and ran off across the sand toward him.
“Soren!” she cried as she barreled into him.
“Erika! Glad to see you!” He returned her embrace.
She stepped back and smiled up at him, meeting his sharp blue eyes. He was as handsome as a prince. Those eyes shone all the more brightly for his carefully groomed stubble that framed his tender smile. Long, straight black hair dangled down behind his shoulders in a ponytail. Tall, with a wiry physique, he was dressed in blue jeans and a white undershirt, old oil spots staining it. Even though they weren’t related by blood, she was every bit his daughter. Leonard could playact all he wanted. She knew the real thing. And it should have been Soren doing the job instead of Leonard, but that wasn’t her place to decide.
“How’d it go, Erika?”
“Boring.”
“I bet. But I’m glad I sent the best girl out to do it.”
“Best?” Leonard snorted as he stalked up to them, “Hardly. She was trouble, Soren.”
“Trouble? I got the old bag to sell it to us.”
Soren shushed her and then turned to his attention to Leonard. “Oh? How so?”
“Destroying property, that’s what. Knocked a figurine over on purpose. That witch could’ve just as easily been offended by what she did. That makes the job harder to pull, Soren, when you have a bored girl knocking things off of shelves just for her own amusement.”
“Leonard,” Soren said, putting his hands on the bald man’s shoulders like an old friend might. “You did well, though, right? You got the stone?”
“Yeah, it’s right here. But—”
“Then don’t worry about it,” Soren said, spreading his hands out as if the matter was settled. “You were successful. That’s all that matters.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk with Erika, and she’ll mind her manners the next time you play a family together. Isn’t that right, Erika?” He looked back over his shoulder at her.
Erika nodded, smiling up at him—extra wide for Leonard’s benefit. “Yes, sir.”
Soren nodded and put his arm behind Leonard’s back, steering him toward the house. Erika followed. “Why don’t you hand me the stone and then head back to the mainland? I need you back at the Barrows. We’ve got some new arrivals coming today.”
Leonard stopped, took one last drag on his cigarette and then tossed it away. “Sure thing, boss. But, I’d really rather not have to work with that kid again.” He fished the stone out of his pocket and handed it over to Soren, who accepted it with a smile.
“I will keep that in mind. Go on now. Take one of the cars in the garage. Erika and I have things to talk about.”
Leonard nodded and stalked off back the way they had come, leaving Erika to wonder if Soren really did intend to talk to her about her mistreatment of poor Leonard.
Soren walked to the right and opened the door to a bedroom in the back of the house. “Follow me, Erika. We’ll go upstairs to my office.”
They walked through the bedroom and then the living area before ending back in the front foyer. Her doubts about the conversation to come gnawed at her. Would he yell at her? Would he just tell her not to play her games anymore? Would he hit her? No, Soren wouldn’t do that. He never had, and she’d been in trouble before. Leonard would, but Soren wasn’t Leonard.
They took the stairs up to his office, which dominated the second floor area. The entire east wall was glass, through which she saw across the rooftops of the houses nearby and farther down the beach. It was a beautiful view. Erika noticed that the lavishly appointed L-shaped desk had recently been cleaned. The normal piles of papers that typically sat on top of it were nowhere to be seen. The desk sat just inside of a glass partition that walled off the public sitting area of the office from the private area where important conversations could be had in confidence. Soren ushered her inside and closed the door.
“Take a seat, Erika. I have a special job for you.”
So it wasn’t about Leonard after all. That was good. She sat down cross-legged on the plush leather couch, letting her anxiety melt away. She adjusted the dress so that it looked neat, wanting it to look decent for him. “What’s the job, Soren?”
Soren crossed over behind his desk. He put his hands down upon it and leaned forward. “There’s another stone that’s come up on the market, and this one isn’t so hard to get. Not today, at least. But I need the best pickpocket I can find. That’s you.”
Erika blushed. She didn’t get this sort of praise from him every day. “I can do whatever you need me to do, Soren.”
“I know.” He straightened up and walked a little ways toward the smaller window on the west side that looked down onto the patio. “That’s why you’re the best, Erika.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, a sly smile creeping across his face. “And did I mention? You’re also the best damned actor I’ve known for your age. The way you handled Leonard out there. Guts and nerve. That’s a great combination. He’s not so fond of you, you know.”
Erika broke into laughter, pleased to learn that Soren actually approved of her behavior. “You should have seen him in the limousine. So steamed his whole bald head turned bright red!”
Soren turned and smiled. “Crime is a serious business, but you manage to make it fun. Leonard has no sense of humor, but don’t tell him that.”
Erika shook her head. “Not a word.”
“Make a little room,” he said as he sat down next to her. She scooted over. “The best part about this job is that I’m going to be on it with you. This one is important. We’ve spent years collecting these things and this one is the last. A bunch of goofy scientists were holding onto it, and now they’re field testing it in some machine this afternoon at Stockbridge Park.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“Oh, you know, sources. The Leith has them everywhere.”
“Not gonna tell me, then?”
“Trust me, when you need to know, you’ll know,” he said, smiling down at her.
“That’s what you keep saying, but I’d at least like to know why you’re having us collect these jewels. I’ve never seen you sell one.”
“They’re for a greater good than just the money they’d bring in, and I wouldn’t have you do anything I wouldn’t do myself. But the rest of it, you’ll just have to be patient.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that, but she trusted Soren to tell her whatever she needed to know to do a job right. He always had.
Just then the phone on the desk began to ring and Soren’s smile vanished. “Listen, Erika, why don’t you go downstairs, make yourself something to eat, and go change out of those clothes? There’s some for you in the bedroom. We’ll leave for the park in an hour, all right?”
He shooed her out the door and then closed it. The sound of the ringing telephone vanished. As she went downstairs, she wondered what it was about. But it wouldn’t do to get too curious. That was the nature of being in the Leith. It was a network of loosely connected cells, and it was for her own good that she didn’t know a lot. People who got too curious simply disappeared. That was how Soren became the leader of this cell, after all.
At the bottom of the stairs she turned toward the kitchen, then, itching at the dress, thought better of it. She’d change her clothes first.
Soren paused to watch Erika disappear around the corner before moving back around behind his desk. She had her own role to play that was coming up soon, but now wasn’t the time to tell her that. She was a good kid, actually. Very useful. And he would keep her around as long as she stayed useful.
Just like a certain other person.
He picked up the telephone. “Hello, Brigadier.”
“Soren,” came a filtered, male-sounding voice. “Report to me the status of your ongoing operation.”
“Operations here are proceeding fine. The businesses here on the South Island are well within our hands. We’re just about—”
“That is not what I am asking about. What about your side operation?”
“My side—”
“The jewel thievery.”
Soren began to sweat. He sat down in the expensive, leather-bound office chair. Things were going very well, actually. But why was the Brigadier asking? He had been given permission to pursue this interest, but questions so close to the end of the operation didn’t pass the smell test.
“Well, Brigadier, it’s going fairly well.”
“I noticed that activity has been dropping off in your primary responsibilities, Soren. Why would that be?”
It was as he suspected. The Brigadier had decided that he was devoting too much time to what should be, in the Leith’s estimation, a lesser priority than their normal business practices. He’d have to fend them off somehow. He decided to go for the indirect approach.
“It’s merely that we’ve been having difficulty with some of our marks. You know how it is, these cons and infiltrations can be very tedious sometimes.”
“Are you sure it is not because of the jewel thievery?”
He considered lying, just this once. But the Leith knew. They always seemed to know. “Well, I’m sure I may have been spending a little too much time on that. I’ll reorient my priorities.” He could slow down, maybe a little. If it would get them off his back long enough to complete the operation, it would be worth it.
“You will. You’re taking too many resources, Soren. I can’t authorize this distraction for you any longer.”
“But Shadow, look I—”
“Do not interrupt me, Soren. The truth is this is proving too distracting for you. You have obligations to this organization. You’re being paid, but not to rob old women of their shiny trinkets.”
Soren's face turned beet red. Not from embarrassment, but from anger. It was all he could do to avoid shouting back into the receiver at the Brigadier. How dare they insult his life’s work? This was more important than their quarterly report. Far more. What right did they have to say he couldn’t pursue it?
But all he said was, “I understand.”
“See that you do.”
The connection went dead. Soren slammed the phone down to its charging cradle and then leaned back into his chair, stewing. It was not as if the Brigadier could understand. He had kept his true purpose hidden from them out of necessity, which made it all the more insulting that they would deign to tell him what was important and what was not, how he should act and whom he was beholden to. These stones held the key to a stable world, free from people like the Brigadier.
This was his true life’s purpose. The Leith was a means to that end. Bullies, the whole lot of them. But sometimes you had to deal with the less pleasant elements of society to get what you needed.
Fortunately, he was almost there. What he had told Erika was mostly true. The jewel they were set to steal was the last one. But he was far more interested in the machine. It was key to his plan. And that key was being taken out of the confines of a high security laboratory to a public park of all places. Minimal security. The suits at the lab were keeping things on the down-low because they figured nobody except for them and the scientists involved—including the one on Soren’s payroll—knew what it was. And so goes the common knowledge, if nobody knows what it is, nobody is going to steal it. Nobody, except for Soren.
It was decided, then. His anger gave way to the pleasant thought of his anticipated victory. He would continue with the operation, despite what the Brigadier or the Leith had to say about it. By the time they found out, there wasn’t much they would be able to do about it anyway. Or want to do, for that matter. He couldn’t resist grinning at the thought.
CHAPTER 3
Into Foronar
SLAM!
Zach bolted straight up, blinking groggily into Mr. Connor’s eyes. He thought he saw a hint of mischief in them, as if the graying, middle-aged man relished waking up dozing students by lifting their desks and then letting them drop to the ground.
He probably did.
“Stay up too late playing Rainbow Six again, Zach?” the teacher asked.
Modern Warfare, you idiot. Rainbow Six is old news. He fought the urge to say it. Zach wasn’t stupid enough to believe he could insult Mr. Connor in his own detention. Besides, the man enjoyed baiting students. He’d send Zach right back here the next day if he wanted. Instead, Zach just said, “Yes, sir.”
“Well, school’s out. Time to go home.”
Zach just sat there.
Mr. Connor leaned down conspiratorially. “You know, for most of my students, like the ones who just left, they’re out of that door over there as soon as the bell rings.”
Zach looked toward the now-deserted hallway, not trusting it for a minute. “I’d like to stay here for a little while longer. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Mr. Connor straighted back up and sniffed, somewhat surprised. “I guess I don’t mind. I’ve got papers to grade anyway.” Then he walked back to his desk, muttering something under his breath about kids who wanted to stay in detention.
Once the coast was clear bully-wise, he gathered his things, dropped the stuff off at his locker that he didn’t need for homework that evening, and exited through the side door by the gym. He unlocked his bike from the stand and began to cycle home.
Off to his right, the football team ran drills up and down the field. His brother Adam was with them, number forty-eight. At the intersection where he had barely escaped the truck, he slowed down and came to a stop, staring up at the hill. Rick was probably waiting for him somewhere on this road, beyond the hill, expecting him to come through.
Then the comment of Mr. Connor’s about about Rainbow Six popped back into his mind. In that game you had to conserve your bullets, keep track of your men, manage your resources, and be sneaky. You had to have a total view of the battlefield situation. Or at least as good a view as possible. And this battlefield wasn’t looking so good. Beyond that hill was the safety of home, but between him and it was a superior force. Biking right into this trap wouldn’t do. He’d have to go around. And it would require stealth. Rainbox Six-style stealth.
Zach turned right, deciding to zig zag a few blocks to Center street and cut across town to the two-lane highway that bisected the town. The road came to an end there. He could go back south down the highway, but that was dangerous and, well, it would also take him right back toward Rick, provided the bully was still looking for him. He decided instead to go cross-country.
Zach rode across the highway and down into the ditch. There he dismounted and shoved his bike through the narrow row of trees and into the bare field beyond. Like the one he’d trekked through that morning, this one was filled with stubble from a farmer’s harvested crops and was kind of muddy. Committed now, he continued onward toward the farmhouse to the other side. He mounted back up on his bike and followed the driveway down to the road—Broome Street—and took a right. It was a dirt road, but it was packed down hard.
He rode fast, the mud on his tires flinging off and up into his face from the force of the wheels spinning so fast. He pedaled across the open expanse before him toward the safety of a small back road that was lined by trees. He could see south across another piece of farmland to the street that would have taken him home had Rick not been blocking the way. Thankfully it was clear.
Just as he was about to reach the back road, Rick and his friends rode by on the street ahead of him. He gaped, not expecting them to come from that direction. One of the kids shouted and pointed, and the group, flocking like predatory birds, looped around toward him.
He took the left down the back road and sped up. A little ways ahead grew a stand of trees with a shed in the way. He steered off into the grass and took the corner around the shed. Keeping it between him and Rick’s gang as best as he could, he pedaled hard. Rick appeared from the other side of the shed and angled toward him.
Zach barreled into the thicket. Hidden from view, but not Zach’s memories, was a small slope downward to an old go kart path. He had played in this stand of trees as a kid and he knew this terrain fairly well. Now the path was overgrown, but still ridable on a bike.
Back at the entrance Rick and his friends struggled through the tangle of the brush. Zach smirked at that, breathing a little easier. They hadn’t been lucky enough to find the go-kart path. The path snaked to the right and became quite overgrown as it led down into a small, marshy crick that fed the reddish milo field beyond. He could have forded this without any problem, especially considering that his shoes were already muddy from the field crossing. But since he’d been here years ago, someone had dumped a whole bunch of broken furniture directly on the spot where the crick crossed the path.
Zach wrinkled his nose even while his hopes sunk. The mattress looked especially gross, and there was no way around the obstacle. Desperately, he looked around. To his left, a giant tree a little ways up a small slope. Around it a bunch of smaller ones. Beyond that, the milo field. He could disappear into there. He’d get really itchy from the grain, but being itchy was better than getting a black eye. He jumped off his bike and began to climb the slope.
“Hey Zach! Stop running!” Rick was catching up. The bike was slowing him down. He pushed it aside and kept going. As he approached the giant tree, he noticed a short door set into the side of it. It hadn’t been there just a moment before. He slowed down as he came toward the door, the threat behind him momentarily forgotten.
“What in the world?” he wondered aloud.
“Moron! Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Zach snapped back to reality. Rick was right behind him, marching up the slope. Zach panicked and did the only thing he considered sensible. He opened the door, bent down, and ducked inside.
Only to run into something large, round, and white. Zach pushed against it to stop himself, but it gave way and he went stumbling. He tried to get his footing, failed, and tumbled into a tripod holding some kind of device. Both the tripod and the device went clattering away in different directions and he sprawled to the concrete.
Concrete!?
He looked up and saw something even more unexpected. Before him was a massive wooden bridge that spanned a large ravine, supported by a pillar of rock that rose up from the middle. Aside from the guard rails on either side, there was no structure built on top of it. Two large ancient-looking towers of yellowish stone stood guard like sentries on either end of the bridge. Ropes with small banners attached extended from the top of each tower at down toward the ground. Beyond the ravine, pine trees, and then farther still, the spires of gleaming skyscrapers and the span of a larger suspension bridge which arched out to the right and over to an island of some kind.
He picked himself up off the ground and whirled around. He had to get his bearings. Off to his right the concrete bricks formed a wide pathway that hugged the gorge before disappearing behind the curve of a hill which dominated the area that had been behind him. Out of the hill poked dozens of chunks of dark gray-colored rock, a few the size of houses. Pine trees and mossy growth covered it from top to bottom.
“No, no, no! You’ve ruined it!”
He looked from the hill looming above him down toward the flustered voice. He noticed a retaining wall set into the side of the hill, and set into the wall was a door—the door he had just come through. It swung shut with an audible click.
“Great. Now you’ve done it, kid.”
Zach finally found the source of the voice, and all but felt his eyes bugging out of their sockets. The big round thing he had run into was talking to him. It had two arms and legs where you’d normally expect them, except it wasn’t human. Its large black eyes and a mouth were inset into its body, though the lack of a neck or head didn’t make it look freaky. In fact, it seemed almost normal. The thing wore a white coat of some kind, no pants, although it looked like it didn’t need them, and two brown-colored boot-like pieces of footwear, one for each foot. As it moved about, wisps of mist bled off of it, because it wasn’t made of flesh and bone. It looked like it was a cloud. A walking, talking cloud.
Normal-looking it may be. But it was utterly alien. Zach bolted for the door. He reached it and yanked it open, but instead of Rick and the forest, he saw a supply closet full of buckets and brooms.
“Oh, great.”
He slammed the door shut and turned around, staring at the cloud thing. He backed along the wall away from it and tripped over himself, ending up butt-first on the ground. He stared as it came toward him, finding himself just under its eye level.
The thing stopped and seemed to sigh. “Oh come on, kid. Get up. I ain’t mad at you. And you’re not stuck here, either.”
Zach felt a little relief at hearing that much, but he was having a tough time processing what he was seeing nonetheless. “You’re—you’re . . . ”
“Yeah?”
“Um, what are you?”
“What am I?” The thing blinked, surprised. “What am I? Are you okay? Have you ever seen a Cirran before?”
Zach shook his head no.
The Cirran rolled his eyes and muttered, “The state of education these days . . . ” More directly to Zach he said, “Well get up.” He motioned with his right arm for Zach to stand. It left wisps of mist behind that soon dissipated. “I’m not going to eat you or anything like that. Couldn’t anyway, even if I wanted to. What’s your name?”
“Zach Moran,” the boy said as he got up from the ground a second time. “Sorry. I don’t mean to stare, I’ve just never seen anything like you before.”
“Anything like—” the Cirran snorted. “That’s just xenophobic. Name’s Walter Brume, and I’d appreciate it if you Outerlanders would get your heads on straight. Now I’m going to send you right back where you came from.” Walter ambled over to the edge of the walkway where the device that Zach knocked off the tripod had come to a rest.
“Sorry, what do you mean by ‘Outerlander?’”
“You don’t know what that is?” Walter picked up the unit and inspected it. Somewhat egg-shaped in appearance, four separate emitters poked out from one side. Satisfied, he nodded to himself. “No harm done. It’s fine. You know, even Outerlanders know what the term ‘Outerlander’ is.” He set it down on a park bench near the railing and turned to face Zach.
Zach shrugged. “I guess I’m not an Outerlander then.”
“Where else could you possibly be from?”
Zach pointed to the door. “In that closet, Cirrans don’t exist.”
“You know that’s what those anti-Cirran xenophobes keep saying. Saying they just believe in one less magical creature than everyone else does. Are you one of them?”
“No! Of course not. I just mean that there’s no life that’s made out of clouds where I’m from. Honest.”
“And where might you be from, kid?”
“Kansas.”
“And where’s that?”
Zach looked at him, askance. “The United States. On planet Earth. This really isn’t Kansas, is it?”
Walter opened his mouth to reply, but paused as something finally seemed to sink in. “Whoa. You’re not from here, are you? You really aren’t an Outerlander? And you weren’t just hiding in that broom closet there?”
“No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
The cloud being’s hands went to his head in disbelief. “This is Foronar, boy. Not ‘Earth’. All those calculations, down the ruddy toilet. Oh, but this is brilliant! I was totally wrong. I was field testing this thing to create a cross-continental teleportal and I ended up making a trans-planetary one instead. Who knew this thing was that powerful?” he shouted, pacing back and forth. “What a discovery!” Walter stopped again as if something occurred to him. He looked at Zach, puzzled. “Why’d you decide to run through my teleportal, anyway?”
Zach looked down. “Well, see, there was this kid, Rick, and he and his gang were chasing me.”
“Ah, I see. So you were running from a bully.”
“Well I was more trying to go around him so I could get home, but yeah, something like that.”
Walter laughed. “Well you sure went the long way! By light-years!”
“Yeah? To where, exactly?”
Walter swept his hand out toward the view as if presenting a new car. “Stockbridge City. That bridge right there is its namesake.”
Zach walked up to the railing to get a better look at the bridge. “It looks pretty old.”
“Oh, the bridge is a reconstruction, but the towers are authentic. This city is almost a thousand years old, and this is one of the oldest parts.”
Zach didn’t know what to say. “Neat.”
“Yeah, but we should be getting you back. Can’t have a genuine alien running around here, even if he does look like all the other humans.”
“So you’re going to send me back to Rick and his gang?”
“Bad things usually happen when you let the experiments roam free,” he shrugged. “But we can wait a few minutes if you like, until you’re sure he’s gone away.”
Zach smiled. “But I’d like to stay. Have a look around.”
You stay too long and you might end up homesick,” Walter joked. “Besides, the longer you stay, the more time there is for something to go wrong. This is experimental technology, you know.”
Zach thought about that. Yes, Rick would be gone, ensuring he would have a safe trip the rest of the way home, but he still wanted to stay. This was a brand new world, after all. But Walter made a good point. Then he sighed. “As long as I can come back sometime?”
“I bet we can work something out, after more testing.”
Zach snorted. “Just don’t send me to Mars.”
“Mars is another planet in your system?”
Zach nodded.
“Been there before?”
“Humans on our planet haven’t traveled to any others. Just to the moon and back. But that was a long time ago.”
“Oh. Well, we don’t travel to other planets, either. Not before today at any rate.”
“How’d you end up targeting my world?”
“Happy accident? I have no idea. Would love to know, though. More tests are needed, definitely.” Walter waddled over to where the tripod lay and began to set it back up. He rambled on as he worked. “That teleportal device is quite something, Zach. It energizes the door frame to create the teleportal. Open the door and the frame stays energized. You just walk through it and you’re instantly at where it’s set to go. Just don’t close the door or shut off the device before everyone is through, cause doing either will cause the teleportal to collapse. Do me a favor and hand me the device, will you?”
Zach looked down at the park bench where Walter had set the teleportal device, but it wasn’t there. “Um, you didn’t move it, did you?”
Walter turned around and scratched at a spot just above his right eye. “No, why?”
A sick feeling was began to form in the pit of his stomach. “So what were you saying about something going wrong?”
The Cirran looked from him to the spot on the bench and back again. “You mean it’s gone?”
The feeling got worse. “You can get another one, right?”
Walter just shook his head.
Zach whirled and leaned over the railing and vomited. He was stuck here. He wiped his face, embarrassed, and then turned and sat down heavily on the park bench. “I think you’re right, Walter. I’m done exploring. I want to go home now.”
CHAPTER 4
Hands and Feet
Erika sneaked back the way she had come, edging against the wall of the walkway above her, the teleportal device clutched in her right hand and the stone that was within it now safely tucked into one of the belt pouches at her side. She braced as a wind gust buffeted her, grateful that she now wore pants and a shirt instead of that itchy dress. She preferred pants in most situations, anyway. Dresses made her look pretty, but she’d trade the uncomfortable openness for pants any day of the week. They were functional and easy to move around in, which was exactly what she needed for a job like this.
She looked down to make sure of her footing before continuing onward. The land dropped sharply away into the ravine, past a set of monorail tracks anchored to the side of the stone wall. She kept going until she was sure she was out of sight of the Cirran and his new friend, and then climbed back up over the wall and guard railing. She crossed the walkway and hauled herself up the retaining wall on the other side and trudged through the trees and up the hill. She spied Soren crouched at the edge of a rock that jutted out from the hillside. He was looking intently down at where the Cirran and the boy were even now panicking and searching for the missing device.
She crouched down next to him and handed it over along with the stone, whispering, “Here you go.”
Soren turned and accepted them, pocketing the stone and depositing the device into a large satchel at his side. His eyes still staring intently at the scene below, he gave her knee a quick squeeze of appreciation. “Good girl. Knew you could do it.”
“Thanks, Soren.”
“You see that kid?” He pointed down through the trees at the blond-haired boy, who was peering over the guard rail and into the ravine. The frustrated-looking Cirran stood beside him. Erika nodded. “While you were doing your thing, I went and got a closer look at him. I think he could be useful.”
“How so?”
Soren smiled at her. “Now that would be telling.”
“All right, fine.” Erika decided not to push farther. This was a Leith secret.
“Get him to come to the Barrows willingly. Today is Monday. You have until sunset on the Friday after next. Eleven days.”
“Okay. I’ll need a cover story though.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked. That was an odd question. Of course she trusted him.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good. I trust you, too. Here’s your cover story.”
With his left hand, he shoved her over the edge. She cried out in alarm as her feet left the stability of the rocky outcropping. She landed on the slope feet first and began tumbling. She careened off of a tree and despite the stars she was seeing, she managed to turn herself onto her side so that she was rolling down the hill now. Getting dizzy, she saw the top of the retaining wall approaching. Her roll had slowed her momentum enough that she was able to use her arms to get most of her body over the top of the wall so that she wouldn’t bruise herself too badly against it. She dropped a good five feet or so to the brick, landing sort-of on her feet, but—oh, ouch, that was painful—she crumpled to the ground, completely winded and cringing from a shooting pain up her leg.
Zach leaned against the railing, still sick to his stomach, hating himself, and wondering what his brother would do in a situation like this. How could he have been so stupid to run through a strange door? He peered over the side, looking for any trace of the teleportal device. Maybe it had gotten knocked off the park bench and over the ledge? It shouldn’t have gone over, there was a lip at the edge of the walkway that should have stopped it, unless it bounced over that. He hoped if that were the case, it would have gotten caught somewhere before bouncing completely down the side of the ravine and into the white-capped rapids of the river below.