The Aeternum Chronicles- The Complete Trilogy, page 8
part #1 of The Aeternum Chronicles Series
She leaned left and the bike sunk a few inches as it dipped off the levi-track and cut onto a narrow footpath between buildings. She glanced back, and saw the kill car stopped at the end of the alley. A red light shone from the side of the vehicle and she cut right just as a dart flew past where she otherwise would have been.
Clem made several more turns, snaking her way randomly through the boroughs of sector seventeen. Once she was sure she’d lost the kill-car, she slowed to a stop and caught her breath. That was too close. She accelerated the sleek black hover-bike toward home.
The tall, nondescript building where she lived wasn’t in the best condition, but then again this part of town wasn’t known for much better. That’s what made it perfect. No one would suspect that a fortune in geo-cash sat within this oversized shack.
Clem unlocked the front entrance and stepped inside. The faint familiar smell of animal urine poorly masked with rug deodorizer wafted over her. She made her way across the faded red carpet of the lobby. The floorboards beneath it creaked with each step. She walked past the lift, which was still out of order, and approached the freight elevator. Clem pulled a chain attached to the door and it opened begrudgingly with a loud metallic squeal. Normally the jerky ride to the sixth floor was unsettling, but she was too excited about her most recent find to care. Once on her floor, she walked down the hall and unlocked the door with six zero eight written in black marker at the top of the frame. She stepped in and the door clicked shut behind her.
“Hi Igor, how was your day?” Clementine scratched the stray tomcat under his chin and he let out a companionable “mrow.” Igor watched with his one good eye as Clem set her helmet down on the counter and made her way through the dated one-bedroom apartment. She caught her reflection on the way, and stopped to admire her mid-calf black boots. They were a perfect complement to her leather tights and fitted black leather jacket. Not bad, she thought, smiling. Satisfied, she walked to her room, unconsciously maneuvering around her couch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently unwrapped her most recent acquisition. A soft glow emanated from the small, unassuming stone. She brought it close to her face and looked past the glossy surface, into its core. Tiny red ribbons threaded through the translucent blackness. She closed her eyes for a second, and opened them again. The ribbons had all shifted into a new configuration.
Ever since she learned of their potential, Clementine had been buying, stealing, and collecting as many infinity stones as she could get her hands on. She pulled a lockbox from under her bed, rewrapped the stone and placed it with the others inside. The metal box closed with a click and she slid it back under the bed.
Igor sauntered into the room and jumped up next to her. She ran a hand down his back. “And now, to celebrate.” She stood up with a smile, made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out a hot pepper chocolate bar. It was gone within thirty seconds. Once back in her room, Clem got undressed for bed, took one last peek at her collection of stones, and fell asleep with her hand resting on the box.
* * *
Clementine awoke to Igor licking her cheek with his small sandpapery tongue. The sun was high in the sky; its yellow light streamed through her open window. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then scratched Igor behind the ear. Stifling a yawn, Clem stood and threw on an old pair of blue jeans and a gray hoodie, zipped up in the front. Once the coffee was finished brewing, she drank it black and wolfed down a peanut butter protein bar. “Here you go little scuzz-ball.” She gave Igor one last scratch and filled his food and water bowls. Clem shrugged into her black jacket and slipped out the door.
A ten minute walk down Concordia Avenue brought her to a one story building with a rusted steel garage door. She rapped her knuckles on the rusty metal.
“Hatch? Open up! I know you’re in there.” Nobody answered. After a few moments, she heard movement inside. A thick, faded red door beside the garage squealed on its hinges, and a portly, bald man with cool brown skin stepped out. He wore a blue jumpsuit, stained with oil and grease, as usual. The man greeted Clem with an affable grin and warm smiling eyes.
“Namaste blackbird! Looks like you’ve been having some late night adventures, yes?”
“Hiya Hatch,” Clem grinned, “Sorry I’m late. Nothing good ever happens around here before midnight. You should know that by now,” she smirked.
He let out a deep belly laugh, “Have I told you how much you remind me of my daughter? Come! I’ll brew some tea.” He turned and walked inside.
“All the time,” Clem said to herself with a smile. She followed him in, closing the heavy door behind.
One would never guess that on the other side of that metal door lay a clean, organized mech shop. Three hydraulic lifts were spaced along the shop floor, and rows of tools lined the back wall. One thing she could say about Hatch, he was very well organized. They’d met a little over a year ago, and hit it off instantly. It began as a relationship of practicality. Clem had the occasional illicit items to get rid of, and Hatch had connections with interested buyers. It didn’t hurt that they shared an affinity for geo-tech. Hatch had a tantalizing collection of parts and gadgets. If he were anyone else she’d have helped herself to it long ago.
He led her to an open room at the back of the shop. A metal workbench was attached to the far left wall. Hatch walked over, reached under the bench and pushed a hidden button. A large rectangular section of the floor slid open revealing a metal staircase. Clem remembered the first time she’d seen Hatch’s secret den. She was so surprised by the coziness of it. At the bottom of the steel staircase was a sizable, gently lit room with yellow light emanating from decorative sconces along the wall. A plush red carpet covered most of the floor; its complex, exotic design held incredible detail.
Hatch led her downstairs and made his way to the large, polished wood bar. He motioned for Clem to have a seat at one of the three round wooden tables. She walked in and sat in a plush chair, upholstered with deep red velvet. Hatch pushed another hidden button, this one under the bar, and the opening above the stairs closed silently. He filled a kettle from under the counter with water, and placed it on a small burner.
“Will you be seeking another lesson in chaupar today?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Clem smiled back. “You know as I recall, you were the one taking a lesson from me. Besides, I don’t have time for games today. I’m close, Hatch.”
“Are you now?” Hatch said with a thoughtful expression. “I take it you’re not here for pleasure then. What can I help you with?” he asked, making his way around the counter to sit across from Clem.
“I need a reverse polarity electromagnetic distributor.”
“Hmmm, I may be able to find—”
“And I need it to be less than two pounds.”
“Well I suppose with some—”
“And small and thin enough to fit around my waist…like a belt.” Clem said with a grin.
Hatch put his hand to his chin, as he often did when deep in thought. “Hmmm, well I am not sure it can be done, but perhaps with—”
“Oh, and Hatch?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I would be ever so grateful if you could get it for me in a week.” Clem smiled her most winning smile and did her best to appear charming.
Hatch took a deep breath and exhaled up into his thick black mustache. The high pitched whistle of the teakettle broke the silence. “Ah! Tea time!” Hatch smiled and stood, moving quickly toward the kettle. Clem got the impression he was glad for an excuse to escape. He produced two porcelain teacups from under the bar, placed them on its surface, and filled them with steaming water. He then pulled the cork lid off a storage canister. Clementine could smell the chai from where she sat. He placed a cinnamon stick and a silken tea bag in each cup, topping them off with a bit of heavy cream and honey.
Hatch made his way back to the table with the steaming cups and sat down, placing one in front of Clementine. She lifted it close to her face and inhaled deeply. The rich aroma immediately put her at ease. Hatch had once told her that the herbs in this tea were no longer grown on Ministry farms. You could only get them if you already had the seeds. Before meeting Hatch, she had never tasted anything like it, but she now thought it might just be her favorite. They sat for a few minutes, sipping the hot chai and enjoying each other’s company.
Hatch was the first to break the silence. “I might be able to build this distributor that you ask for, but I have something to ask of you in return.”
I need that part, she thought. Clementine was determined to complete her project, and would let nothing stand in her way. “Name it,” she said.
“There’s something I desire. It is inside a Ministry Stronghold in Sector One.”
You have my attention, she thought, and silently urged him to continue.
“It is in the southwest corner of the Civilian Security and Defense building, atop the eighteenth story. Inside is the Office of the Chief Ward.” He leaned back in his chair. “I will not lie to you, Clementine, this is a very dangerous mission. There will undoubtedly be sophisticated security measures in place. I’ve had watchers observing the building for the past few weeks.” He slid a folded piece of paper across the table toward Clem.
She picked it up and unfolded the stiff parchment. It was a map of Sector One, with an indication marked on the southwest corner of a building labeled “C-SEC.”
“What do you know about the non-personnel security measures?” she asked.
“Standard Ministry building defenses. Double-thick paned glass, trap doors, shock-darts. The optimal time of entry will be three days from now at 3:14am. The moon will be in its slightest phase, and the ferromagnetic discs beneath that part of the city will be resetting.”
Clementine nodded, “What is it you want me to get? What does it look like?”
“Inside the office there is a tall bookcase. It holds hundreds of thick stories and records. You only need one. It is called God’s Relegation of Man.” Hatch paused to make sure she was paying attention.
Clementine nodded.
“Removing this book will open a small compartment beneath the executive desk. Inside that compartment is the object I seek. It should be a small, 12 inch long black-steel canister.”
“Piece of cake,” Clementine said, fully masking her unease. She folded up the map and tucked it into her back pocket.
“There is one more thing,” he looked uneasy. Hatch never looks uneasy. This can’t be good, she thought. “We have intel indicating that there may be Breakers present in the tower.”
“I’m out.” Clem stood up and placed the map back on the table. “Sorry Hatch, I’d really like to help you but there is no way I’m dancing with one of those white-eyed freak shows.”
Hatch took a deep breath. “I understand. I wouldn’t have asked if we didn’t have such great need.”
“I’ve seen what they can do, Hatch. This isn’t the same as ripping off some stuffy aristocrat…who is we?”
Hatch muttered under his breath. “Look, if I tell you more, will you at least consider taking the job?”
Clem crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
Hatch took a deep breath. “The Ministry is planning something. Something big. It could mean death, or worse, for many, many innocent people.” Hatch paused, choosing his words carefully. “We are in the middle of a war, Clementine, a war that has been raging for centuries.”
Clem made no effort to hide her skepticism.
“It has been underground for many years, but it will not remain that way. Whether or not you’ve experienced it directly, you must know that the Ministry is an oppressor.”
“You’re a revolutionist,” Clementine said aloud without meaning to.
Hatch nodded solemnly, “They take from us our parents, our grandparents, our friends. For what? Because we don’t have the resources to support them? Please, a child with basic math could prove that a lie.”
That was true. Clementine herself had worked it out. New Arcadia could support tens of millions more citizens based on the agricultural potential of the farmland within its borders, and there was more than enough space.
“And when was the last time you heard of anyone leaving this glorious city?” Hatch said, raising his arms in mock splendor.
Clementine had never known anyone who left, but she never really thought much of it. Why would anyone want to leave? Like everyone else, she understood the world outside to be a harsh, deadly place.
Hatch took her silence for an answer. “It’s not because no one has ever tried. We are prisoners here, Clementine. Prisoners with expiration dates forced upon us by a totalitarian regime with a dark agenda.” Small beads of sweat stood out on his brow.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Clementine prodded.
“Question? Oh, yes. We. I’ve probably already said too much. If I tell you any more, it will risk the lives of many good men and women. You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you that we, are determined to fight for those who desire true freedom from the Ministry’s oppression.”
Clementine hated the idea of getting caught up in politics. She operated best on her own, without any ties or attachments. It was just easier that way.
“Clementine. I will understand if you choose not to do this,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “but this isn’t just about you and me. There are thousands of innocent citizens who will suffer and die if Ministry plans continue unchecked. I need that canister. We can’t stop them if we don’t know what they’re building.”
Clementine took a deep breath. This was not the kind of work she liked to take on. Lots of risk, not enough reward. Hatch wasn’t the type to play her, at least she didn’t think he was…and he seemed utterly convinced of what he was saying. Normally she’d have been out the door and long gone by now, but something tugged at her.
“Why me? Can’t you just get one of your…associates to do it?”
“Unfortunately not. We don’t have anyone with your talents. All previous attempts have failed.”
“Look, I’m going to need some time to think this over,” she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted with the gloves tucked into her belt.
“You have three days. If you do this for me, for all of us, I will have your power distributor ready before then.”
Well, I guess that’s something, she thought.
“Here, take the map. If you decide you don’t want to do it, bring it back, or burn it.” He picked it up and held it out to her. Clem hesitated, then took it and put it into her back pocket.
“Thank you for the tea, I should be going.” She took one last sip. It had gone cold.
“Yes, of course. As always, it has been a great pleasure having your company,” Hatch said, smiling warmly. He stood, bowed his head gently, and walked over to the counter carrying the empty teacups. The ceiling over the stairs slid open, and he accompanied her to the exit.
They reached the red steel door, and Hatch opened it for her. “Three days,” he reminded. Clementine nodded and stepped out, and the door closed behind her. She spent the walk home mulling over what Hatch had said. She’d never had any problem staying out of messes like this before. Why now was she finding it so difficult to say no? With a shiver she recalled the night she and Oren had spied on the Breaker in the woods.
Oren. It had been two years since he disappeared without an explanation, or even a goodbye. She refused to believe he was dead despite the disappearance. It was the most strangely tragic thing she had ever experienced, and that was saying something. She remembered walking back to where he used to live and finding a completely different house where his used to be. It was empty, and none of the neighbors would talk to her about it. In fact they all looked terrified and shut the door in her face when she asked. She pursed her lips in pained frustration, how could he just leave like that? What kind of jerk doesn’t even say goodbye?
Clementine reminded herself that she wasn’t going to think about him anymore. She soon reached the inconspicuous rusty door to her workshop.
“Oh boil it.”
Without realizing she was doing it, Clem had convinced herself to take the job.
7
Luck
A gust of cool night air gently lifted a few loose strands of Clementine’s hair, and she pushed them back behind her ear. As Hatch had predicted three days ago, the moon was undetectable in the night sky. She checked her watch – 2:15. She would need to leave soon if she was going to reach Sector One in time.
The door to her workshop let out an annoying squeal as she opened it. I really need to oil that, she thought, and slipped inside. Clem clicked on the light switch, and rows of fluorescent bulbs cast a cold light onto her hover-bike. It was parked by the retractable steel garage door. Her workshop was by no means cozy, but it was functional and familiar. Hours upon hours at the bench, making discoveries and building new tools had given her an affinity for these corrugated metal walls and the oil-stained cement floor.
She reached up and touched the tool rack as she made her way to the back of the shop. Lining the small back office was a row of blue lockers, some rusted, others with paint chipping off. Clem approached the third locker from the left and spun the combination lock to eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four. The locker protested at first, then opened with a pop. It was empty, of course. She took a red and black infinity stone from a small pouch in her backpack and placed it into a barely perceptible recess in the locker’s side wall. It clicked into place and the rear wall immediately slid to the side, revealing a secret compartment. She removed the stone and placed it in her pocket.
