Event Horizon, page 23
"Really? Are you part of a transport crew?" Jude raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. I work for—"
"Oh God," Jude whispered, taking a step back. "You're that Allerson guy. The one everyone said was crazy."
"Actually, my name's Kennet. Nathan Kennet," he emphasized. Thank God nobody was close enough to hear them.
Jude nodded and gave him a leery look. "I get it."
"So how old are you?"
"Nineteen. Are you just here to say ‘happy birthday’ or did you want something else?" Jude's friendly demeanor was wearing away. Dakota could not tell which the young Dionysian feared most. Being caught off duty or being caught speaking to Dakota Allerson, wanted anarchist.
"What do you know about Joseph Walker?" Dakota did not want the conversation to end just yet. In a weird way, talking to Cantara's cousin made him feel closer to her.
Jude's face contorted in a way that made him look like he was halfway between sadness and rage. A rage he shared with his uncle. "The man ordered a bombing that was guaranteed to kill innocent people. That should tell you all you need to know. Catching that bastard is the first thing on everyone's list. If you see something, no matter how small, tell us."
"I will, thanks."
As Dakota turned to walk back to the craft, Jude asked, "How did Rowland look, when you saw him?"
He pictured Rowland's face. The way he handled himself, the downcast look in his eyes as though the world had crashed around him. Only one word came to mind. "Tired."
Jude nodded his head as though he had expected that answer. "Thanks, Nathan." He did an about face and headed towards the barracks, his shoulders slumped.
Dakota jumped as a car horn beeped behind him. He spun on his heels and saw Cass and Eli in Wilf Ericksen's car. Cass leaned out of the passenger seat window and said, "Wilf is going to show us the sights. You in?"
He smiled and replied, "Sure." Though he doubted Farson had much in the way of sights. Either way, it would be a good opportunity to scope out the area. And to get his mind off Seth. The old seer would not want him to spend his days moping about. He climbed into the backseat next to Eli, and they drove off.
The road connecting the base to the town seemed less eerie in the clear morning light. Red and yellow birds sang as they hopped from branch to branch. The crisp air enlivened him, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. Even Eli seemed to benefit from the new environment. A faint smile crossed his lips, not a common sight since Novatera. The man appeared to be at peace.
Wilf parked the car near an open-air market on the opposite side of town from the embassy and those graffitied eyes. A handful of vendors were open, and several more were setting up for the day. Two or three gave an absentminded wave to Wilf as he passed by.
"It ain't much right now," said Wilf, a bright smile plastered on his face, "but on Satordays, this is one of the best places to be."
Dakota stayed close to Cass as they moved from stall to stall. All the vendors acted friendly towards them, and he could not sense any malevolence. None of these people seemed like the type to aid a wanted felon.
Eli stopped in front of a fruit stand. Dakota did not recognize any of them.
"What are these?" Eli asked as he inspected a small, purple and blue berry.
"Abhaile berries," replied the vendor, an older man with flecks of gray in his black hair and bread. "They only grow during winter, so they're fresh."
Eli liked the sound of that, so he purchased a small bag. Fresh fruit was hard to come by in the middle of space. He tasted one and passed the bag to the others. Dakota ate one and tasted a combination of passion fruit and blackberries, a perfect blend of sweet and tart.
"Hey, where did Wilf go?" asked Cass, realizing that their ride had disappeared.
"Think he ditched us?" asked Eli.
"I doubt he would do that. Split up and see if we can find him," Cass told them.
They went in three different directions: Eli in the direction they came from, Cass going forward, and Dakota in between the stalls.
People started to crowd the market, making it more difficult to navigate. Dakota pictured what Wilf was wearing. Dark blue coat with a blue and white striped hat. Looking around, he realized how popular those colors were. He spied a person wearing a striped hat and followed until the person turned around. Not Wilf, just a woman with short hair. He retraced his steps.
A shuffling blur moved in the corner of his eye. There was Wilf, talking to a boy and a girl, teenagers by the looks of them, at the edge of the market. The girl had dark brown skin with curly black hair, while the boy was pale skinned with lanky brown hair that kept getting in his eyes. Both wore heavy, dark blue coats.
The girl noticed Dakota watching them and nudged the boy on the shoulder. He said something to the girl, and she gave a quick nod in Dakota's direction. His eyes narrowed, fixed on Dakota. An uneasy feeling formed in his gut, telling him to walk away, to get back to Cass and Eli right now.
The boy and girl then said goodbye to Wilf and walked down the street as Dakota approached. The gut feeling screamed at him to run while his mind told him to investigate.
"Oh, hi there!" said Wilf, as genuine as ever. "Sorry 'bout that. I saw Penelope and Link over here and had to talk with them. You know how it is when you haven't seen someone in a long time."
Dakota nodded, thinking about Cantara. Seeing her at the embassy. Knowing he should not talk to her, but abandoning his cover because God only knows if he would ever see her again. Have the opportunity to speak with her, to merely be in the same place as her ever again. And then it was over. The moment came and passed and might never come back.
Returning his attention to Wilf, Dakota noticed a man sitting down near them, his back against the wall. A hooded cloak that reached down to his ankles and mirrored sunglasses obscured his features. Black stubble lined the lower half of his face. The man focused on every person who passed by, taking in every iota of his surroundings.
"Hello," Dakota said to him. The cloaked man looked up without speaking. Though Dakota could not see his eyes, he sensed the man observing him. His gut screamed at him to run, but why? He wanted to know why.
"Nate," said Wilf, pointing at the man, "this is my friend Seth. The one I told you about. Guess he decided to come out of hiding today."
Seth stood and met Dakota at eye level. A pang tore at Dakota's heart, hearing Seth's name again. But this man looked nothing like Seth Seward. He was not a kind old man who would go out of his way to help a stranger. He was a young man who looked at the world as though it was ready to bite him. What did Dakota expect? That everyone named Seth would be exactly the same?
The new Seth said nothing as he looked past Dakota and into the crowd.
"He's not much of a talker," explained Wilf.
Seth shot a glance at Wilf, sneering. He then slowly returned his gaze straight ahead, the sneer fading away.
Dakota looked over his own shoulder and saw Cass and Eli in the crowd. He waved at them. Cass spied him, returning the wave. Getting Eli's attention, they made their way towards the market's edge.
"Hey, where are you going?" asked Wilf as Seth walked away. The walk quickly turned into a jog.
Dakota followed Seth, the curious part of his mind compelling him to run, silencing the gut feeling that told him otherwise. He dodged people left and right, mirroring Seth's movements and gaining on him. Dakota tripped over a person's foot and fell, catching hold of Seth's cloak on the way down. Seth landed flat on his face, the mirrored sunglasses tumbling into the crowd.
Dakota stood and went to help Seth to his feet. Grabbing hold of Seth's arm, waves of fear and panic crashed over him. His chest constricted, causing his breaths to become short and quick. The people. Too many people. All looking at him. He had to get away. Get away! Run, run, run!
He let go of Seth. The panic dissipated in slow waves. He closed his eyes, reorienting himself and separating the other man's emotions from his own. So much fear surrounding him. Fear of people? No. Fear of being seen.
Seth stood on shaking legs and locked eyes with Dakota. Dakota had never seen eyes like his before. The right was clear blue, and the left an emerald green. But he had seen them. He saw them yesterday graffitied on the wall.
"Walker?" Dakota whispered.
Seth's eyes widened. The crowd murmured, one name on everyone's lips. He elbowed Dakota in the ribs and ran off, away from the market.
The sharp blow only delayed Dakota for a moment. He raced as fast as his legs could carry him to the edge of the market. He scanned the increasingly busy street. Walker ducked into an alleyway half a block away.
Dakota hesitated, looking back into the crowd. Eli was catching up, but Cass was nowhere to be seen. One was better than none, he supposed as he ran after the wanted man.
38
In Plain Sight
Hugo watched from afar as Cass, Nate, and Eli drove off with the local yokel. Good for them, he thought. Having half of the crew gone for the day was a relief. He and Eli had been at each other's throats again, and he was not completely sure why. Just butting heads.
"Where are you heading?" he asked Margo and Donovan as they exited the craft. Both of them wore heavy winter coats. Another pain in his ass. Bedlam won the award for the coldest planet he had ever visited.
"The captain is calling for another meeting," Margo explained as Donovan continued to walk away. Yet another person who was pissed off at the universe for some vague reason. Margo asked Hugo, "Where's the rest of my crew?"
"They caught a ride with the welcome committee."
Margo rolled her eyes, expecting but not wanting to hear that. "When they get back, tell them I'm calling a crew meeting tonight."
"So I'm supposed to stay here all day?" They still had a crap ton of supplies that had not been unloaded. Hugo would be damned if he got stuck doing all that work by himself. And why hadn't the military unloaded it? It was their supplies.
"Someone needs to be the look-out."
Hugo ran his fingers through his sandy hair. "Fine." He retreated into the storage bay and inspected the crates one by one. And by ‘inspected’, he stared at the labels until he was sure Margo was gone. He waited another minute, just to be certain. Margo might have 'forgotten' something. He glanced outside. The coast was clear.
He sauntered down the exit ramp and took a tour of the other transport crafts. Fifteen in all. Each with a different planet of origin.
"Man, you really need this many crews?" he asked nobody. Six were small, like Event Horizon, and required less than ten crew members. The rest were medium-sized, able to transport civilians and supplies. But none of the really big ones. The ones capable of carrying several hundred tons of supplies and dozens of passengers. That made sense, he supposed. Limited space out here in the middle of nowhere.
Hugo noticed that one of the medium-sized crafts was open, with no one standing nearby. He rolled his eyes at the idiotic move. Who the hell left their craft unguarded? You, dumbass, he remembered. He shrugged it off. They had nothing worth stealing. But while he was here, he might as well explore.
"Hello?" he asked in his normal speaking voice as he walked up the ramp. Nobody shouted at him to get lost. That was practically an open invitation.
In the corner of the storage area stood several unmarked crates. He noticed a computer close by. Odd. Transport crafts rarely had computer screens in the storage area. Too high a chance of it being damaged. Perhaps it was a newer model or custom made. He turned on the screen.
"Not even a password? Are these people idiots?" After years of working for Margo, he still had not cracked her passwords. The woman must use random number generators.
He clicked on the inventory icon to see what they were transporting. Most likely the same shipments of basic provisions. But fifteen crafts carrying nothing but provisions seemed excessive. Unless the Novateran military planned to stay here indefinitely. In which case, why not buy stuff from the townsfolk? They seemed friendly enough. Except for that Walker asshole.
"What the hell?" One inventory item was called an ER Generator. What type of generator was that? Hugo quickly looked it up. No dice.
He glanced up and called out to see if anybody was there. No response. He clicked on the item name and a box popped up stating "Security Clearance 5 Authorized" and the item's description appeared.
"Crap!" The computer in the storage area made sense now. That was common on military crafts. This one had been outfitted to look civilian. Common sense told him to run, but he would never get this opportunity again. So why not take advantage of it? He read on.
"The ER (Einstein-Rosen) Generator, once installed, enables crafts to travel at much faster superluminal speeds than conventional crafts. By generating the energy required to fold space-time, crafts can cross distances in a matter of days or hours as opposed to weeks. Due to the sensitive nature of the Republic at the time of its invention, by Dr. T. Ahren Swift and Dr. Sibyl Moneaux of Nova Sol Laboratories, the ER Generator is solely for experimental use in select military crafts and prohibited for use by civilian crafts of every classification. Item Number 34389598320. Assigned for transport to Agamemnon Landing Craft number 4, from Novatera to Bedlam."
Hugo memorized the number, he always had a knack for numbers, and went back to the crates. Sure enough, the generator was there, but there was no way for him to open the metal crate. And no telling how big the thing was. The crate was a standard three feet by three feet by five feet. If it were pocket size, that would be ideal. Who knew how much this kind of tech could go for on the black market. He would be set for life. No more jobs. No more bosses. No more moving from planet to planet...
"Hey, who's in there?" someone called out.
Hugo jumped and backed away from the crates. Heart pounding, he walked to the opposite end of the room before moving to the front. At the base of the ramp stood a soldier holding a tranquilizer gun. Those were always fun to deal with. Three limbs fully functional, and the fourth a dead, floppy weight.
"Where's your clearance ID?" the soldier asked. His nametag read Zaks. Hugo recognized him from yesterday.
"Clearance for what?" Hugo asked. When in doubt, play dumb.
"You're not military. What are you doing here?" Zaks demanded.
Thinking fast, Hugo answered, "I'm here to sell encyclopedias."
Zaks gave him a confused look. "You're selling what?"
"Encyclopedias," Hugo repeated, putting on his best con artist act. "Books that contain all the knowledge you will ever need. You can line them up in your living room. Impress your friends."
"Why would I do that when I can use the Web?"
"That does sound better, but we're in the middle of a war. Transmissions and communications go out all the time. There might be a time in the near future in which encyclopedias will be vital for human knowledge."
Zaks let out an exasperated sigh and said, "Look, buddy, I don't know anything about your encyclo-whatevers. But you can't be in here, okay?"
"Very well. I'll just be on my way," Hugo said, walking down the ramp and passing Zaks. The soldier grabbed him by the arm.
"You don't look like a civilian. What are you doing here?"
"I'm with a transport craft." Hugo figured sandy hair was not a common genetic trait in this part of the world. "But I'm new to it, so I wanted to have a look around. See if this line of work is really for me."
"Seriously? Your boss didn't warn you about sneaking onto other people's crafts?"
"She might have mentioned it..."
Zaks held on tighter to Hugo's arm, pulling him away from the craft.
"What's going on?" The base's headquarters stood directly in front of them. Panic rose in him. Fight it down! Panicking means death.
"I'm sorry, but I have to report this."
"That's not necessary." Hugo racked his brain for a better explanation. Anything to lean Zaks towards his favor. "You know what a seer is, right?"
Zaks paused and looked Hugo in the eye. He could not tell if the soldier was buying it. "Are you supposed to be one?"
"Absolutely not. But I know someone who is."
"Well, who is it then?" Zaks lessened the grip on Hugo's arm. Good. He might get out of this mess scot-free.
"A person of greater interest. Let's make a deal. I tell you his name, and we forget this little misunderstanding ever happened. Okay?"
It did not take Zaks long to think it over. "Deal. After all, you are new to transporting, and those crafts tend to look the same. Who's the seer?"
"His name is—"
"Hugo!"
Hugo whirled around and saw Margo marching towards him, her eyes glaring. Oh crap. How much of this ordeal had she seen and heard?
"What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms. Never a good sign.
Hugo shrugged, his tongue refusing to speak, and took a step back.
Margo asked Zaks, "What was he saying?"
"He said there's a seer near here. He was going to tell me who, but—"
"Sorry to disappoint, but this one," she jabbed a finger at Hugo, "is a Grade A liar. We've been trying to break him of the habit, but no dice. I'm sorry for any trouble he's caused."
Zaks's expression changed to one of disappointment and annoyance. "There wasn't much of a problem, ma'am. But thanks for letting me know. I'll pass it along." Narrowing his eyes, he gave Hugo a sideways glance.
Hugo winced as Margo grabbed him by the arm. The same arm Zaks had grabbed. She forced him to walk away.
"What the hell do you think you were doing?"
"Saving my ass," Hugo replied. "And it's not like Nate is worth anything to us."
"Not yet," Margo said through her teeth.
"You really think you can convince him to work, actually work, with us?" Hugo did not care if Nate was a spy. The kid was trouble. First Eli acting weird, and then those Dionysian on Novatera. Now half the crew against the other half. Everything had gone to hell in two months, starting with Nate being hired.
Margo turned back towards Zaks who was listening on his radio.
